


Andreil Smut Anthology

by addesin



Category: All For the Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Canon Compliant, Edgeplay, Exhibitionism Kink, Explicit Sexual Content, Hand & Finger Kink, Humiliation kink, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Masturbation, Mile High Club, Multiple Orgasms, NSFW, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overstimulation, Post-Canon, Rimming, Spooning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-17 19:33:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5882836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/addesin/pseuds/addesin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of smut one-shots featuring Andrew and Neil. Very nsfw. There will be multiple kinks, aus, etc. I'll add tags as needed, and each chapter will list it's particular tags/kinks for clarification.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Filthy

**Author's Note:**

> I have a [tumblr](http://addesin.tumblr/com) if you want to check it out.
> 
> I hope like it, feed back would be lovely!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew is a mesmerizing rapper and he writes songs about his boyfriend sometimes without telling him.
> 
>  **tags:** Rapper!Andrew AU, anal sex, blow jobs,

Andrew looks _dirty_ hot sweating under a florescent glow. He wears black leggings beneath black basketball shorts and a sweat-drenched bro tank, and it could look bad but on Andrew it looks so, so good. His movements are power, conducting his phrases in front of himself, out into the audience as he drops flawlessly clever rhymes, but somehow he doesn’t look showy or extravagant. His sweat slick hair is plastered to his forehead and he cards his hands quickly to pull it off his face as he crossed the stage to address a new part of the crowd. 

Neil is struck breathless, watching him from the bar while nursing a Rum & Coke. He shouldn’t be as mesmerized as he is, but no matter how many times he watches Andrew perform, Neil never tires of it. The husky timbre of his voice, how quickly he spits lyrics, the way his lips move and his muscles tense at each bound across the stage. His presence is like a bonfire, a burning building. It’s a little painful to watch, but you can’t look away. Neil watches Andrew like he's a constellation of fiery stars that could tell his past, present, future, all in one. Neil watches Andrew like he holds all the answers.

“I’m not your answer, and you sure as fuck aren’t mine.”

Neil is pulled from his trance by Andrew’s set wrapping up. Andrew doesn’t drop the mic as he walks off stage but he might as well have, for how the crowd loses it. The club is small, cramped, and there are enough people that there’s a constant cacophony at minimum. But as Andrew’s set continued, he had drawn them in like moths to a flame until their voices reach a crescendo when Andrew just… walks away in the biggest anticlimax this grungy club had ever seen. 

Andrew’s charisma never had come from his ability to kiss ass.

He doesn’t thank the club or wish it goodnight as he just walks away, setting the mic casually on the mix board as he goes. Neil is out of his seat and slapping a twenty on the bar before Andrew is even completely off the stage. Maybe he is one of those moths, drawn to the inferno that is Andrew Minyard irrationally, unable to stop himself. He trails after Andrew down a poorly lit hall, through a stock room, and out an emergency exit. If Andrew knows Neil is at his heels, he doesn’t acknowledge. 

Neil is sure Andrew would be content to ignore him until he props himself up against the washed out brick wall a few feet down from the dumpsters and lights two cigarettes, handing one off to Neil wordlessly. Neil eventually moves to stand at Andrew’s other side and take the cigarette. They doen’t speak, Andrew toking on his cigarette silently while Neil holds his up to his lips but doesn’t take the breath. 

After a while, Neil murmurs, “What was that last one called?”

Andrew glares at him momentarily before he pushes off the wall to take Neil by his throat. He holds the cigarette in the corner of his mouth and growls with as much distaste his small body can muster, “I hate you.” Neil won’t find out until much later that is the title of the song. He is used to Andrew telling him he hates him. 

Neil leans into Andrew’s grip, enjoying the steady pressure on his windpipe. It makes his head feel cramped and heavy but somehow that isn’t something Neil dislikes. In fact, the feeling along with the sharp tang of smoke and that black, bottomless gaze Andrew levels him with all make their way straight to Neil’s dick despite himself. 

“I don’t believe you,” Neil rasped, using up his limited supply of oxygen carelessly. 

“I didn’t ask you,” Andrew retorts immediately, squeezing as he pulls him down. He takes his cigarette out of his mouth to blow smoke into Neil’s mouth. Neil takes it in without question, tasting the heat and the spice on his tongue greedily. 

“You always say that,” Neil croaks, lungs spent. 

His gaze abandons Neil’s in favor of his lips, and it isn’t long before he is on them like a starved man, all teeth and tongue and smoke on the back of his throat. Neil moans into it, somehow finding new air and losing it just as quickly. It isn’t long before Andrew’s hand moves down Neil’s chest though, fisting his shirt, invading his space entirely. 

The cigarettes are dropped at some point; Neil isn’t sure when. He’s too busy digging his fingers hard enough to hurt into the brick façade behind him to keep himself from grabbing Andrew, who is doing his damnedest to grind the full length of his torso against Neil’s, one thigh a heavy force against Neil’s groin, fingers tangled in his hair, teeth on his flesh.

Neil gasps when Andrew slides his hand beneath Neil’s belt, palming him between his tight jeans and his underwear. “Was it about me?” Neil asks as Andrew mouths at his jaw, lays sloppy kisses on his chin. Andrew’s stubble tickles but it hardly registers with everything else Andrew is doing to him. 

“Shut up,” Andrew rumbles, nipping at his throat. 

“You looked so good up there,” Neil tells the air above them, switching gears. “Everyone’s eyes were on you.”

“Shut your fucking mouth,” Andrew growls before silencing him for good with another messy kiss. The kind of kiss that makes Neil drool a little bit. “Just. Shut up.” It’s a little quieter this time. 

Between Neil’s boner and Andrew’s hand, it’s downright painful in his pants. Neil whimpers a little when Andrew presses the heel of his palm down along the shaft of his dick, and Andrew squints. 

“No?” he asks, about to pull his hand away.

For the first time, Neil touches Andrew back, grabbing his wrist to keep it in place. “ _Yes_ ,” he argues. Andrew scowls until Neil elaborates, “It’s just tight.” He uses the other hand to move Andrew’s hand down from where it grips his sleeve to his belt, wrapping Andrew's fingers around the buckle. 

“Take those off then,” Andrew growls, wrestling his hands free. He steps off Neil long enough to rip his belt open before shoving his pants down his thighs. 

Neil might have blushed if this were the first time. But it isn’t. Instead he heels one foot out of his slip on sneaker so he can push his pants the rest of the way down and pull one leg free. “Is this enough?” Neil asks, palms open in offering. 

He keeps his boxers on but Andrew is on him again in a second, pulling them down enough to allow Andrew to grope his bare ass while he kisses furiously at every inch of Neil he can. “Yes or no?” he asks again, a breath before sinking his teeth into Neil’s bottom lip and tugging.

“You already know it’s yes, stupid,” Neil groans as soon as his lip is free. 

Andrew’s glare says _you know better_ , but Neil’s eyes retort with _so do you_. 

Andrew fights back with a kiss, fingers searching, invading while he uses his free hand to hook Neil’s unclothed leg over his hip. “How do you want it?” he growls into Neil’s neck, rubbing his flesh raw with the scratch of stubble. “Slow? Hard?”

“Doesn’t matter.” Neil’s breath hitches as Andrew stretches him open with two fingers. Andrew balances them momentarily to kick Neil’s ankle out, giving him more room, spreading his legs wider. Neil is sure he’ll lose his balance but Andrew holds him up effortlessly, not even slowing his rhythmic fingering. He gasps, croons at the feeling, as raw and fiery as it is ripping through him like this. “Mh, hard,” he adds as an afterthought. 

Andrew’s response is shoving his fingers deeper, searching and invasive, as he grinds his dick between Neil’s legs. He fingers Neil with a desperation, like he’s trying to find something deep inside him. The first time he just barely grazes Neil’s sweet spot, Neil only hums in approval, letting himself fall forward to rest his forehead on Andrew’s shoulder. The second time, having located what he wanted, Andrew circles his fingers hard and methodical there, making Neil moan until he has to bite down on Andrew’s shoulder to quiet himself. 

The alleyway they hide in is secluded and poorly lit, separated from the street by a dilapidated, wood fence, but that doesn’t mean total privacy. 

“Fuck, Andrew. _Fuck_ ,” Neil cries softly into Andrew’s shoulder, voice muffled by hard muscle under soft cotton. He lays his lips on Andrew’s neck smoothly and the sharp breath Andrew takes in tells him not to stop what he’s doing. “Want you in me,” he adds hazily around Andrew’s throat. 

Andrew adds a third finger for only a while before he pulls out, making Neil gasp in relief before Andrew’s jostling Neil, refusing to put him down so he can pull himself from his shorts, pushing them down enough that they won’t get in the way, and thrusting himself between Neil’s ass cheeks. 

Neil rocks down into him, trying to encourage something more, his leg trembling with the effort of moving his hips, but Andrew stills him with heavy hands to rut against him a while longer before reaching under Neil’s thigh to keep himself steady. Andrew mixes pulling back just enough to press himself forward again with guiding Neil’s hips downward to finally force his way inside. Neil’s ass burns in protest but he knows the pain will pay off and bites his lip to keep any discomfort buried. 

Being stretched wide without lube always hurts at first but Neil’s body is quick to adapt to Andrew, and he loves the feeling despite the pain. Maybe a little bit because of it. Andrew is breathing heavily already, barely holding back feral groans, even while he keeps himself still to let Neil adjust to his heavy cock. 

Neil doesn’t touch himself, not yet, wanting to prolong this moment. Instead, he leans back against the brick wall again, one hand fisting Andrew’s tank and the other locked in his still-sweaty hair. “’M okay,” he grits out around a bitten lip, chin tucked. 

Andrew tests the waters with a languid thrust, voice rumbling softly as he hums. Between Neil’s curving spine and spread legs, he is in the perfect position to meet Neil’s ass, one arm looped under Neil’s leg to keep it lifted.

The moans that fill the air are only muffled for a moment before Neil lets his lips fall apart, and it seems that’s cue enough for Andrew to pick up the pace. He squeezes Neil’s hips hard enough to bruise, and fucks up into him, pitching forward slightly as his eyes squeezed shut in concentration. 

“Harder,” Neil huffs, more a reminder than anything and Andrew obeys without comment, slamming into him a little more wildly, enough to make that pain blossom anew and vivid as ever. Yes, this is exactly what Neil wants. He trusts Andrew to keep him up and releases his holds on him to steady a hand on the bricks above him and fist his own dick, spilling precum on his belly messily.

He doesn’t jerk himself, content just to squeeze and enjoy the pressure of his hand, and trace his thumb along the slit to gather his precum and slather it across the shaft for a bit of lubrication. “Feels so good,” Neil hums, squeezing himself a little harder when Andrew somehow grows rougher, losing his rhythm entirely in favor of fucking Neil senseless. Whatever praise he had hoped to follow up with is cut off by a choked cry that breaks off in Neil’s throat and makes him tighten his grip on himself to keep from cumming right there. 

“Fuckfuckfuck,” Neil blubbers, brows furrowing and he lets his head fall back. He wants to prolong this moment, wants to bask in it for as long as he can. Everything is straining, pained by the awkward position and the raw, half-dry sensation of Andrew fucking him open, filling him so nicely. Everything about the brick wall behind him hurts, from the way it cuts into his shoulder blades to how it rubs his palm raw. Everything feels absolutely perfect, the right balance of pain and pleasure, the perfect sting of Andrew’s hips slapping roughly at Neil’s ass mixing with his nails digging into Neil’s waist and his hot breath falling on Neil’s face and neck, practically burning him as he grunts sharply.

Neil knows exactly how Andrew’s brows furrowed and his teeth clenched when he's getting close, and he quickly pants, “Cum inside me,” before Andrew can do anything but that. His response is immediate, as if the words alone elicited his orgasm. Andrew’s hips pitch forward savagely, sliding Neil up the wall uncomfortably and twitch once, twice, a third time, before he slouches to rest his forehead on Neil’s chest. 

Neil kisses Andrew’s mess of blond locks and pants helplessly. If he shivers when Andrew pulls out his waning cock, neither of them acknowledge it, and Neil is eventually lowered onto shaky legs. “Christ,” Neil sighs, slumping against the wall helplessly while Andrew pulls up his shorts. 

They just breathe for a moment, the two of them. Neil tries to remember how his legs work again, and realizing that he can’t, lets his head fall back against the bricks once more. Andrew holds him in place by his biceps for a brief moment, catching his breath, before he’s dropping himself onto his knees. 

Neil looks down at him, breathless in more ways than one. Andrew’s pretty, dark eyes are hungry, his lips bitten and damp. He looks so goddamn good between Neil’s thighs. “You don’t have to,” Neil protests lightly, though he doesn’t want to fight it. 

“No?” Andrew’s eyes narrow, just barely.

“ _No_. I mean… _Yes_. Yes, I want you to, but…” Neil trails off, feeling a fresh flush bloom on his cheeks. 

Andrew ignores him, drawing his hands down Neil’s thighs and back up, this time inside. His thumbs rub small circles in the sensitive joint of his hips and the pressure makes some of Andrew’s cum slip out, eliciting a cringing shiver through Neil. Andrew smirks for all he’s worth, watching the bead of cum slide harmlessly down Neil’s thigh. 

“Andrew,” Neil almost-begs, biting back a curse. 

Instead of replying, Andrew brushes Neil’s hand on his dick aside, stroking him slowly, almost sweetly, if it weren’t Andrew. He lays a kiss on the head, not breaking eye contact for a second, letting a string of Neil’s precum pull off with his lips. Neil wonders if his heart might stop from this. 

“God damn, Andrew,” Neil gasps, clenching his fists at his sides and letting his nails bite into his palms to keep from doing anything, 

Andrew’s response is taking the head in his mouth and suckling on it, hollowing his cheeks just barely and flicking his tongue across the slit. When Neil starts to lose focus, unable to keep eye contact, he pulls off, watching him intensely. He breaks eye contact only so he can wet the rest of Neil’s dick with saliva, drawing the flat of his tongue over as much as he can, letting the head and Neil’s copious precum smear along his cheek, catching in the blond stubble and biting him a little raw. Neil hisses, partially from the pain and partially from how Andrew is trying to catch his eye any time he can, eyes blown out and starving for Neil’s gaze. 

He takes Neil in his mouth with ease after that, swallowing him whole without preamble and Neil lets out a soft, “Gah,” in surprise. Andrew bobs his head like he was made for this, eyes eventually falling closed for concentration, his cheeks completely hollowed out and his lips and cheeks flushed. Neil groans with each deep penetration, barely fighting the urge to grab Andrew by his hair until he does it for him, forcing Neil’s fingers to tangle. 

Neil gasps, locking his fingers hard in damp hair and just barely thrusting up to meet Andrew’s mouth. “Feels so good,” Neil gapes, mouth falling open. He doesn’t even care that he's drooling. The tight heat of Andrew’s mouth cancels out all other stimuli. “Shit, Andrew, I’m gonna cum.” 

Andrew makes a deep noise in the back of his throat in response that somehow makes Neil absolutely quake. Andrew pulls back and jerks Neil roughly, with enough spit to keep things slick and smooth. Neil feels something in the pit of his gut that had been tightening snap abruptly. He’s already spilling over before he can give Andrew a better warning, his hips bucking on their own accord, forcing his dick into Andrew’s cheek, and he doesn’t even care about the pain of Andrew’s coarse facial hair cutting into his sensitive flesh when the pleasure explodes from him, jetting fat strings of cum across Andrew’s face, falling across his eye and his nose and even his hair. 

Neil’s legs give out as soon as his hips still, and he drops to his knees around Andrew’s lap. A more conscious part of his brain tells him he’s asking too much, toeing the line between them too closely, by slumping against Andrew, spent and wheezing. But he shakes like a leaf in Andrew’s arms, which aren’t gentle but don’t dump him on the concrete either, which is something. 

It takes a long minute for Neil to be able to sit up again and he’s mortified to see the aftermath of his orgasm on Andrew’s face, but only until Andrew opens one eye and parts his lips to lick up Neil’s fluids. Somehow, that makes Neil stir and he’s cupping Andrew by his ears, pulling them together so he can draw his tongue along Andrew’s jaw, tasting himself on Andrew’s faint five o’clock shadow. Andrew lets him lap at his face without comment, only a little breathless. 

Andrew interrupts his grooming with an intoxicating kiss, and they trade the bitter taste between them, until Neil has to pull back for air, a little sick with the idea of what they’d just done. Andrew’s voice is hoarse when he whispers a quite verse from his final song against Neil’s lips, tracing his fingertips up Neil’s spine in the most delicate touch he’d ever graced him with. He finishes with, “I hate you,” before he forces Neil to his unsteady feet, and that moment of vulnerability is over.

As he pulls his pants back on, Neil hums, “I think that means something different to you than it does everyone else.” 

Andrew doesn’t answer, too busy wiping the rest of Neil’s cum off his face with the inside of his shirt and trying to get it out of his hair.


	2. Spar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neil likes to start fights in bars and Andrew has to keep him out of trouble. Until one time he isn't there and Neil needs to learn to defend himself.
> 
>  **tags:** UFC Fighter!Andrew AU, anal sex

The first time Neil got into a fight that Andrew wasn’t there to protect him from, he broke the guy’s nose. He also broke his thumb but honestly he didn’t even feel it until the adrenaline wore off and the guy was sprawled out bloody on the concrete outside a shitty pub in downtown Columbia. He heard more than felt the sick series of crunches shared between his hand and the guy’s face.

When Andrew came home to find Neil icing his hand, still not having realized it was broken, he was livid. Not enough to instigate a shouting match – which usually mostly consisted of Neil shouting and Andrew basking in his anger –, but he looked moodier than usual driving Neil to the hospital. He didn’t ask how it happened, where he’d been, just stewed on a sour attitude the entire time Neil was having his thumb set and cast. 

Neil had grown familiar with the peculiar ways that Andrew displayed his love, so he didn’t push things too hard, knowing that Andrew was just as upset with himself for not being in Neil’s corner as he was Neil for picking fights with drunks. If Neil had anything to say about it, though, it wasn’t his fault. Any guy who thought they could shit-talk his boyfriend in the pub they frequented would be put in his place. It was just bad timing that Andrew was forced into some extra training that night instead of shadowing Neil like he usually did.

The cast remained for a little over a month but Andrew started teaching Neil how to punch the very next day. He’d watched Andrew fight enough to know the general form of how it was done, but apparently in the heat of the moment, with his lack of experience, Neil had tucked his thumb and really there was no other outcome than a fracture for that. Andrew probably called him stupid two dozen times in the following week.

Learning to punch became learning to fight as Neil’s hand healed and his cast was removed. It wasn’t long before Andrew had Neil sparring him late at night at the gym after hours. Neil usually loses, unable to overpower Andrew. But he has speed working in his favor so as long as he can keep them off the ground, he can hold his own. 

Andrew isn’t a MMA Flyweight champion based on luck, though. He fights men who could have half a foot or more on him. Neil’s stringy limbs are about as much threat to him as a kiss. He shows little mercy either, but for not going for Neil’s face. More than once he has said it is only because he likes Neil with his all his teeth in his head and his nose straight and pretty. 

Tonight is a night that Andrew is in no mood for Neil’s hoppy, distant fighting. He puts up with Neil’s flighty jab-and-retreat strategy for all of a minute before going for his middle and taking him down. It knocks the breath out of Neil to be tackled to the floor. He’s still painted green and yellow with aged bruises from their last fight, and there are new ones blooming already. 

Neil already knows it’s over as soon as Andrew has him on the mat, but he struggles for a bit anyway. He’s never gotten out of one of Andrew’s holds before and tonight certainly won’t be any different. Neil’s chest rattles as he struggles to get air in his system, irritated at both of them that any semblance of victory is over so quickly. 

Still, there is nothing he can do when Andrew grapples him onto his back, getting between Neil’s thighs and beneath his arms so he can lay heavy hits on Neil’s ribs. If he holds back enough not to break ribs, Neil doesn’t know. 

“Fuck!” Neil lets the curse out in a short scream, trying to cringe away from the punches. 

Neil has two options: tap out or let himself get beaten to a pulp until Andrew decides Neil has earned his punishment. Neil never has been good at backing down.

Neil’s only other method of defense isn’t sure to work but if he can catch Andrew off guard, it will at least stop Andrew enough to keep him from wailing on Neil's middle. It’s not clean fighting, but Neil would rather play dirty than lose. 

Neil squirms a bit, locking his ankles behind Andrew’s back, and he brings his hips up smooth and languid, grinding on Andrew’s crotch between his legs.

“You’re going to have to try harder than that, Josten,” Andrew grits out, not realizing for once. He pulls back to cup Neil’s knee, about to push his legs how he wanted him. Neil would be wrapped up like a pretzel in seconds if this didn’t work. 

Neil glares at him and purposefully rolls his hips, Andrew’s weight on him makes it hard to move but he spreads his legs a little wider instead of bearing down on him and nudges his hips up into Andrew’s, panting wildly with determined eyes. 

“Little shit,” Andrew bites, his dick catching on before his mind does. He pins Neil’s wrists above his head and bares his teeth at him. Using Andrew’s body against him is apparently not something Andrew finds amusing.

“You told me to do whatever it takes to win,” Neil says simply, a dirty smile playing on his lips before he can stop it as he grinds into Andrew’s hardening dick. That tugs at the snarl on Andrew’s lips.

“You do this to someone else, I’ll kill you myself.”

“I’m not doing it to someone else; I’m doing it to you.”

Andrew growls but he lets Neil lean up and kiss his neck, finding his hips moving on their own back down into Neil’s. He’s straining through his shorts despite himself, and Neil isn’t much better. Luckily, they’re alone in the gym or Andrew would have shut this down immediately. 

Andrew rumbles into Neil’s throat, nipping and biting in return He’s growing lax and pliant against Neil, and it’s only this that allows Neil to quickly roll them over, grinning triumphantly. 

“I win,” Neil cheers softly, but neither of them are thinking about the fight anymore. Neil isn’t exactly upset about that. Andrew has abandoned Neil’s wrists in favor of groping his ass, and Neil relishes in how Andrew bites his lip and stares up at him with droopy eyes. 

“I’m going to fuck you, Josten,” Andrew growls into the empty air between them. Neil’s eyes dance. This is better than winning their match. He rubs himself against Andrew’s stomach, back arching pleasantly as he looks down at his boyfriend. “Yes or no?”

“Don’t ask stupid questions,” Neil bites around a barely held back moan.

“Yes or no?” Andrew repeats, squinting. 

Neil rolls his eyes in good nature. “Yes,” he hums.

As soon as the word leaves his mouth, Andrew is deftly pulling his shorts down to release his dick and yanking Neil’s down soon after just enough to expose his ass. Neil wishes he could see behind himself to how good Andrew’s dick must look with his shorts at mid-thigh but it’s enough to see the sweat beginning to brew on Andrew’s bare chest.

He leans forward to give Andrew better access and they share a drunken kiss as Andrew presses two calloused fingers into Neil’s ass without much preamble, only getting so far before his gloves cut him off. Neil’s breath hitches and Andrew eyes him cautiously but Neil refuses his concern, telling him in clumsy Russian, “Fuck me.”

Andrew wastes no time fingering him roughly, stretching Neil in preparation to take him. Neil keeps forgetting to tell Andrew he’s doing fine in favor of chewing his lip. It’s a poor attempt to stifle his moans. 

Andrew is in Neil before Neil can get over the raw invasion, and it burns to take him dry, but he also absolutely loves being filled like this. His muscles tighten as he arches his back, tucking his chin to his chest tensely. “Fuck, Andrew, it’s tight,” he grumbles, sinking down on him. 

Andrew is quiet, the only sound from him heavy breaths falling sharply from his nose. He keeps his lips pursed as he grips Neil far too tight by the hips, guiding Neil with the pace he wants and just barely thrusting up to meet him. 

“Feels so good,” Neil hisses. He might have continued his praise if his mouth doesn’t fall open with a desperate gasp the first time Andrew hits his sweet spot. He’s pouring out precum enough to leave a ridiculously large and dark stain on his shorts at this point, and Neil wants to pull out his dick and fist himself but there’s something enticing about coming just from his ass so he leaves it, letting Andrew’s thrusts upwards become more and more forceful, until Neil is just hovering above him, held in place by Andrew’s strong grasp, letting Andrew fuck up into him with animalistic grunts. 

“Shit, Andrew,” Neil kind of wails, but he switches back to Russian to say, “I could cum just like this. Don’t stop, don’t stop.” 

Andrew’s glares up at him but complies, somehow finding more strength to fuck him harder until he cusses, rolling them over in the blink of an eye. “Shut up,” he growls viciously, pushing Neil’s knees to his chest so he can rock down into him violently. 

Neil doesn’t, groaning out praise and encouragement until Andrew bends over to force his way between Neil’s legs again and shut him up with a kiss. 

Neil cums in the midst of it, curled up into a tight ball that squeezes Andrew hard with each throb of his dick. He falls away from the kiss dizzy and not even caring that he ruined his shorts. He had borrowed them from Andrew anyway. 

Andrew somehow enters a new level of speed, bucking so fast and hard that Neil is sure he’ll rip in two and like it the entire time, until Andrew pitches forward, burying his face in Neil’s neck to finish hard inside him, heat pooling Neil as he strokes Andrew’s hair encouragingly. He knows it’ll be a bitch to deal with all this jizz and sweat but for now he lets Andrew kiss him again briskly before rolling off of him to flop on his back.

“I still won,” Neil chimes, testing the strength in his half-numb limbs.

Andrew glares at him across the mat, but doesn’t argue, too busy trying to catch his breath.


	3. Excessive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew returns from a bad interview and finds comfort in Neil's body.
> 
>  **tags:** Rapper!Andrew AU, Anal sex, Rimming, Overstimulation, Edgeplay, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Multiple Orgasms,

The differences between the rapper M and Andrew Minyard is subtle and nuanced. Neil isn’t sure if it is fortunate or not exactly how minute the differences between the two sides of his boyfriend are.

Most think M is a character, something Andrew created to inspire intimidation and mystique. Neil wouldn’t call M a character, just an extension of Andrew. But the differences are there, if barely noticeable. M is charismatic, explosive, but distant like a king looking down from his castle. Harsh and biting like a wolf at your throat. Really, Andrew is only a less expressive version of that. M’s brows live in a perpetual furrow, his eyes hard and critical. Andrew casts a decidedly disinterested gaze at anything and everything that isn’t Neil.

That really is the only visible shift in how Andrew presents himself when donning the title M.

Only a fool would try to ask Andrew to his face what M is like in private, though. He got the question in interviews enough times when his career took off that most know it isn’t something M will engage in. Andrew had long ago perfected the art of staring until his interrogators grew uncomfortable and switched gears. M is no different. At least that is preferable to the antagonistic, bitter responses he gives most other questions.

Neil knows Andrew had gotten the invasive, private questions he hates at his interview as soon as he arrives back at the hotel that night. It’s in the stiff set of his shoulders. The scowl he wears. Anything else wouldn’t make M linger all the way into their room.

This is their first time in a real bed in almost three weeks. Whoever promised the life of a performer was glamorous had clearly lied. Neil loves the different city every night but Andrew clearly favors the alcohol and cigarettes in between. He’s worn out, but refusing to admit it in that way Andrew always does. All the everything building up from months moving from state to state non-stop has him short-tempered already. A bad interview is enough to finally crack that bored mask and Andrew savagely rips his beanie off his head and chucks it across the room as soon as he slams the door behind him.

Neil is sitting cross-legged on the bed watching bad cable TV in a pair of Andrew’s boxers and a too-large black T-shirt that has the cover art for M’s first album on the front. He looks up, about to offer a greeting but is shut up with the look Andrew gives him.

“Go take a shower,” Andrew commands, standing in front of Neil at the foot of the bed, blocking his view of the TV.

“Wha –” Neil is alarmed for all of a second before he realizes what that look in Andrew’s eyes means. “Oh… okay,” Neil concedes, crawling out of bed. It isn’t fear or misunderstanding that has Neil scampering to the bathroom. Andrew’s particular brand of stress-relief is something Neil will always be game for.

Neil pushes Andrew’s boxers down as he’s walking. By the time he’s stepped over the threshold of the bathroom, they’re at his ankles and he’s stepping out of them, onto the cool tiles. When he flips the switch to bathe the room in light, he notices Andrew’s eyes on him in the reflection of the mirror, dark and intense. Neil looks over his shoulder at him, pulling the hem of the shirt down to cover himself as he does.

“Do… do you want to join me?” Neil asks, not embarrassed by Andrew’s unabashed stare but a little caught off guard by it.

Andrew appraises him coolly, his brows smoothing out slowly before he says, “No.”

Neil nods and tries not to think about Andrew’s eyes on him, drinking him up, as he pulls the shirt over his head to expose every inch of his marred torso and toes the door closed behind him.

Neil tries to shower quickly in favor of not making Andrew wait, but he takes the time to be thorough when cleaning. And it’s hard to keep his mind off of whatever Andrew has planned when he sets to checking his ass, wanting to be ready for his boyfriend. He tells himself it’s for the purpose of hygiene but Neil can’t stop himself from slowly circling his middle finger around his entrance and slipping inside to tentatively stretch himself.

The water isn’t exactly an effective lubricant but it’s smoother than going in dry, and his finger slides in without much strain, making Neil bite back a hum of contentment. It’s not as satisfying as being filled by Andrew, but Neil still gets excited from the mix of stimulation and the promise what’s to come. One finger becomes two and before long, Neil has his forehead pressed up against the tiles, ignoring the water pelting him in favor of fingering himself and holding back moans with bitten lips.

Only the assurance of Andrew waiting for him in the bedroom brings Neil to turn off the water and abandon his pleasure in favor of toweling himself dry. He feels empty without something inside him but is quick to be with Andrew again, quick enough that his hair is still dripping when he pulls his M shirt back on.

Andrew is kneeling on the bed waiting for him, hands limp between his thighs. The room is lit only by a single bed-side lamp, making Andrew’s sharp features more wolfish than normal. He’s still mostly dressed, but he’s removed his shoes and the long sleeved shirt he’d been wearing. It leaves him only in a pair of black harem joggers and a black tank top at least two sizes too big and stretched out so it leaves nothing of Andrew’s defined chest to the imagination. He’s even left his armbands on the nightstand.

He seems to have calmed down a bit while Neil was in the shower, but Andrew takes one look at Neil and commands coldly, “Take that off and come here.”

Neil obeys wordlessly, pulling the shirt over his head and dropping it in the threshold with Andrew’s boxers. It will always be a little unnerving to have Andrew’s eyes on every inch of his mangled flesh, but Neil is slowly working out the kinks of his self-consciousness and Andrew has seen him vulnerable and naked so many times that if there is anyone Neil can feel normal around, it’s Andrew.

He kneels on the bed before Andrew, tucking his legs beneath him and waiting for Andrew’s next move. It comes in the form of a hungry kiss, Andrew’s hands finding Neil’s neck to pull them together. They’re pulled off their heels to close the distance and Andrew wraps one arm tight around Neil’s middle to pull them flush. Neil’s hands hover around Andrew’s biceps but he’s slow to touch. Andrew doesn’t give him much time to choose before he’s breaking the kiss with a small groan and moving onto his jaw and neck. Neil’s fingers are magnetized to Andrew’s hair and he moans so sweet under Andrew’s attention. He’s mouth is an assault but he’s gentle and painstakingly slow as he lowers Neil onto his back, laying him out on the mattress and lowering himself between Neil’s legs.

It’s too soon when Andrew breaks way to look down at Neil with warning in his eyes. He props himself up by his forearms so they’re nose to nose. “I need to take my time tonight.”

Neil only blinks for a moment before he realizes Andrew is waiting for a response. “Okay,” he gulps.

“We can stop whenever you want,” Andrew reminds him. “You say no, and I’ll stop.”

Neil purses his lips briefly to keep a frown at bay. “I won’t say no.”

“But if you do…”

Neil lifts his head and Andrew pulls back, pushing up onto his arms fully while Neil pops up onto his elbows. Their distance apart is about the same but Neil feels more control being slightly more upright. Neil is only half joking when he asks, “Is this one of those things where I should have a safe word?” It’s as much how far do you want to go as it is you can’t be serious?

But Andrew is serious. “If that’s what you need.”

“Do I?” Neil tests, not accusatory but anything but casual. He would never deny Andrew but it feels like he’s walking into something dark and cavernous, and he isn’t really sure if that should be scary or exciting.

Andrew’s jaw works for a moment before he says, “How about ‘Baltimore’?”

Neil balks. “That’s cruel, Andrew.”

Andrew is unperturbed. “Then I know you won’t say it if you don’t need it.”

Andrew’s eyes are surprisingly bright, not their usual dilated chasm of desire, but they don’t lack any of their intensity. Andrew needs this – he wants it – but not at the risk of taking too much of Neil. Neil won’t cheapen that without fully coming to terms with what he’s walking into. He knows Andrew will wait as long as it takes.

The level of intensity Andrew warned Neil with tells him that this will be more than their usual passionate fucking. Andrew is as quick to respect Neil’s yes’s as he is his no’s so stalling means Andrew is promising much more than their usual routine. Still, Neil can’t bring himself to find that unappealing. Feeling good with Andrew would always – will always – be something Neil wants.

“Okay,” Neil murmurs after a moment, pulling his eyes up to meet Andrew’s once more.

The reaction is almost immediate. Andrew’s eyes had widened, searching Neil’s face for any sign of uncertainty, but finding none, they narrow, darkening as he leans in to meet Neil in another heady kiss, pushing him down with a little more force this time. One hand spreads over Neil’s thigh to hook it over his hip, and he seems content to stay like that, slowly rolling his hips into Neil’s, working him up while fucking his tongue into Neil’s mouth, until he eventually breaks away for air.

“Andrew?” Neil asks, lifting his head a bit to watch as Andrew moves down his chest, laying open-mouthed kisses along Neil’s collarbone and chest. For all the seriousness Andrew walked into this with, he’s painstakingly gentle with Neil now, looping his arms under Neil’s thighs as he makes his way down, kissing Neil’s scarred belly and hip bones, and carefully avoiding Neil’s erection.

Neil’s head falls back with a dull _flump_ of the pillow beneath him and a weak hum, back lifting off the bed and hips squirming until Andrew forces them to still with a strong grip. Every sensation is overruled by Andrew's lips and tongue between his thighs, his nose nuzzling into the dark curls, mouthing along Neil’s sensitive balls.

The teasing was enough to make Neil keen anxiously, hands fisting into the sheets, teeth sinking into kiss-swollen lips. He strains against Andrew’s iron grip, the only thing keeping him from bucking his hips into Andrew’s face.

“Be still,” Andrew growls, tired of fighting Neil’s tension. Neil nods but he doesn’t have much time to settle before Andrew is pulling him up by his waist. Neil yelps in surprise, but can only let Andrew do as he pleases, taking the sheets with him.

With his legs splayed on either side of his head, Andrew keeps Neil nestled against his torso, his hips against his chest and his shoulders between Andrew’s thighs. Upside down like this, Neil can only pant and look up at at Andrew’s dark eyes peaking out between where his legs join. Andrew locks one arm around Neil’s middle to keep him still and upright while he uses the other to draw his fingers along Neil’s entrance.

Andrew’s brow twitches minutely. “You’ve been playing with yourself.” His voice is viciously low, but his eyes speak only of desire.

Neil blushes down to his chest but he doesn’t argue.

Andrew had admitted before he likes Neil touching himself – especially to the thought of Andrew. Neil likes that Andrew likes it. So the shame he feels is pushed down in favor of reveling in Andrew’s intense eyes and deft fingers. Fingers that are soon abandoned in favor of kisses and an invasive tongue.

Andrew lapped at Neil’s entrance and Neil’s eye rolled back at the damp caress. “F-fuck,” is all Neil can manage before he’s taken over with breathy moans, one hand finally coming up to tangle in Andrew’s bangs, tugging lightly.

Andrew’s tongue circles around Neil’s opening before pressing slowly inside. Neil can’t hold back a desperate whine, chin curling hard into his chest as Andrew withdraws his tongue and reenters with more vigor, curling it slightly with a languid kiss. “Oh god, Andrew, f-feels so good,” Neil praises, encouraging Andrew to bury his face in deeper and explore his insides with his tongue.

A steady dribble of precum hangs over Neil’s stomach, sliding down over Andrew’s forearm still snug around his gut. Neil is overly conscious of it, but when Andrew finally comes up for air, he seems unaffected by it. He lets Neil slide down with ease so his hips rest on Andrew’s thighs and he straddles Andrew’s waist. Neil isn’t sure where Andrew produces the bottle of lube from but he isn’t that worried about it either. Andrew is quick to smother the oil onto his hand, and wastes no time shoving his first two fingers in deep with no resistance.

Neil let out a squeak but he feels no pain between his work in the shower and Andrew’s practiced tongue. Andrew’s fingers are short but thick and the perfect length to press into Neil to the hilt and massage his prostate, curling up toward his stomach and adding a steady, lilting pressure inside him. The noises Neil makes in return are downright filthy.

He reaches to jerk himself off but Andrew pins down his wrist without a word in a silent command. Neil lets out a whiny complaint but doesn’t fight it.

He can feel his control slipping out of him the more Andrew fingers him open, can feel the tension in his body melting away. It makes him pliant and his will bends to Andrew’s easily. Andrew leans over him to stare down into his eyes as he scissors his fingers, then rubs perfectly controlled circles against Neil’s sweet spot.

“You look so good for me like this,” Andrew half-growls fully bending over to scrape his teeth along Neil’s abdomen.

“’M gonna cum,” Neil whimpers, embarrassed that he’s this worked up already. Andrew had promised to take his time but Neil careens toward his orgasm like a freight train.

“ _Not yet_ ,” Andrew hisses, and he uses his other hand to put a steady pressure on Neil’s lower stomach, just above his pelvis, so the burden on his sweet spot intensified. “Not until I say, pretty thing.”

The first time Andrew had used a pet name on Neil had been a mocking joke, sarcastic and nasty and meant as much to patronize his boyfriend as it was to stake claim on him to those around them. Neither of them expected Neil to like it as much as he did. They were even more surprised when Andrew kept it up. In public, if Andrew calls Neil ‘baby’ or ‘sweetheart’, he’s most likely scorning him or using it keep other men and women at bay, sometimes both. But in the bedroom, ‘baby’ is something to rile up Neil even more. ‘Pretty thing’ is a favorite and the quickest way to get Neil to do whatever Andrew wants.

He groans in protest but clamps down, holding back with all his might. “Mean,” might slip between his lips but if it does neither of them acknowledge it. Andrew’s hands work through Neil’s clenching undeterred. He nips at Neil’s stomach, increasing the weight on his abdomen to the point of painful and Neil can barely hold back a wail, fists clenching, knees shaking.

Neil is babbling before he can stop himself, the only thing to distract him from the aching pain of his prostate being constantly stimulated. He can feel his precum leaking between Andrew’s fingers onto his stomach in a steady stream and wonders how he could possibly release any more. “Andrew, Andrew, ‘m gonna – gonna cum. Fuck, Andrew I wanna c-cum. Andrew, fuck me, fuck me! I want you inside me…”

Andrew’s response is inserting a third finger and moving his hand from his belly to around his already flushed cock, squeezing it at the base without mercy. “You won’t cum until I say so,” Andrew warns, eyes impossibly intense.

The more Andrew restrains him, the more Neil’s need grows. Being forced to hold back, being held back, it only increases Neil’s pleasure. He’s desperate to release this tight coil in the pit of his gut, even if only because Andrew tells him no.

“I can’t,” Neil wails, throwing his head back, wondering how he can handle the absolute agony of Andrew’s strong grip on his dick and the orgasm that is building but unable to be released. “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t! I – shit, Andrew, I’m gonna die… Fuck! Andrew, I n-need it. I’m s-so close. It hurts! I can’t anymore!”

But Neil doesn’t say ‘please’ and he doesn’t say ‘stop’ and he especially doesn’t say ‘Baltimore.’ The last thing he wants is for this pleasure to end. Andrew lets him babble on senselessly with in a slurred, high-pitched voice. Keeps the same demanding pressure on his sweet spot, refusing to show mercy.

Each breathy gasp Neil pulls between dirty words elicits an insistent circling of Andrew’s fingers, until Neil can’t even form words any more, he only moans pretty and arches his back in desperation. Flexing his lower muscles seems to alleviate some of the pain and amp him up even more but he still can’t finish and it’s torture.

“Look so good like this,” Andrew notes again, softer this time, drawing his nose up Neil’s belly to make him shiver and moan so, so tender.

The long, drawn out moan to follow is half muffled by Neil pulling the sheet over his mouth, biting into his fist to quell some of his desperation. He hadn’t realized tears were streaming until turning his head and feeling them leak over the bridge of his nose, soaked up by the fabric he’d carelessly shoved in his face. The sob that wracks his body next makes the bed creak as he lets himself go just as quickly as he’d thought he would clamp down.

“Fu-u- _uck_ , Andrew,” Neil blubbers around sharp moaning sobs. “Just le-let me c-c-cum. Just let me-e-e – I can’t any-anymore. Andrew, why c-can’t I? _WhycantIcum?_ ‘M g-g-gonna die-e.” It’s a constant battle to keep himself from pleading, from dropping that word that Andrew hates.

His restraint and barely-held patience pays off by some miracle, though. As Neil trembles under each kiss Andrew lays on Neil’s torso, he growls into his flushed skin, “Cum for me, baby.”

Andrew’s grip releases only minutely and he gives him one pull but it’s enough immediately send Neil over the edge.

The orgasm that rips through Neil is stronger than any he’s ever experienced, enough to make him dig his heels in and push himself out of Andrew’s lap, arching violently and bucking his hips with each jet of cum that spurts across his torso, landing on his chest and face. Neil’s voice is wrecked and hoarse as he groans repeatedly before collapsing in a heap on Andrew again.

Even Andrew’s breathing is enough to make Neil shiver, and when he pulls his fingers out, Neil whines, both at the loss and the intensity of his touch. Andrew gives Neil only a moment to catch his breath, using the time to wipe his hand on the sheets and then use them to clean the jizz and tears off Neil’s face before he says, “I’m going to fuck you. Is that okay?”

Neil’s first response is another whine, and rolling half onto his side to cover his face with his forearm. But Andrew waits patiently until Neil peaks out from under his arm and croaks, “Yes.” He doesn’t know how he’ll handle getting fucked after cumming so hard, but no isn’t in Neil’s vocabulary when it comes to Andrew, and even if it were, Neil wouldn’t want to use it anyway.

Andrew lifts him to readjust their position, so Neil doesn’t so much sit in Andrew’s lap as Andrew is kneeling around his hips. It’s only then that his erection becomes apparent to Neil, as it fights to escape his loose pants, and it shouldn’t do something to Neil’s spent cock but, god, does it. Andrew pushes down the drawstring hem of his joggers and it’s a work of art how his dick wags free, erect enough to slap at his stomach before flopping forward. Neil is equal parts aroused and horrified at the size of it, much larger than one would expect from Andrew’s small body.

The girth of it is enough to have Neil panting, already eager to be filled up despite what a bad idea he knows it is, and he loves how pretty it is, pale like the rest of Andrew but for the pink tip peeking out from the foreskin. A small bead of precum is building along the slit and Andrew smears with his thumb before giving himself an experimental stoke that evokes a shuttering breath from the both of them.

If Andrew notices Neil’s eyes, he doesn’t acknowledge them, choosing instead to reach for the forgotten bottle of lube and squeezing a generous amount in his hand so he can smother it over his cock. What’s left he smears on Neil’s entrance, making him quiver and keen.

“Can I touch myself?” Neil asks weakly, drawing Andrew’s attention away from playing with Neil’s ass and fisting himself slowly.

After a tense moment that has Neil fearing being shot down, Andrew hums his consent, and Neil wastes no time wrapping his fingers around his dick, using slow, gentle strokes to coax himself back to life. The soreness that comes along with it almost makes Neil stop but he powers through it, desperate to come alive again as Andrew bends over him, steading his cock before pressing inside.

With how long Andrew had been fingering Neil, he should be loose enough not to strain against Andrew’s entry, but Andrew’s fingers will never be a worthy substitute for his dick, and Neil still bites back a curse when he pushes inside, thankful at least that there is enough lubrication to make the glide effortless.

“Too much?” Andrew grits out, planting his hands on either side of Neil’s waist once he’s inside.

“No,” Neil rasps. “I’m okay. Keep going.”

But it is very, very close to too much as Andrew carefully forces his way deep into Neil’s ass. Neil on a normal day could handle the pain of having Andrew’s monster dick inside him – enjoy it even – without much struggle, but with how sore he already was from being fucked mercilessly on Andrew’s fingers, he is beyond grateful to be allowed the distraction of jerking himself off.

Still he can’t stop the tears from spilling over as he swallows the insane amounts of stimulation he’s receiving both from his ass and dick. Andrew won’t second guess Neil’s decision to continue, but he reaches out to gently wipe Neil’s tears away with a thumb, jaw clenching and unclenching repeatedly.

When Andrew bottoms out, Neil lets out a sigh of relief. It really does feel perfect being filled like this. Like something that had been missing inside him was returned home. Andrew bends over to kiss Neil hungrily, and it lets him unclench each piece of himself individually until he’s more pliable beneath Andrew, and can finally feel the pleasure building just beneath the pain.

The final step is breaking the kiss to let his head fall back on the pillow with a small huff of contentment.

“Ready?” Andrew whispers. Neil nods, stroking himself with a loose, lazy grip.

Andrew’s lips part as he draws his hips back, and his eyes roll back before fluttering closed when he presses forward again. Neil sinks his teeth down on his lip and lets his hips roll to meet Andrew’s in encouragement and it earns him Andrew’s eyes shooting open to level Neil with a threatening glare. He moves his hands to pin down Neil’s hips after that to prevent him from moving and arches his back slightly as he begins his short, slow thrusts.

Neil knows Andrew is holding himself back for Neil’s sake, still waiting for Neil to adjust fully. It’s a charity that he wouldn’t normally offer and one Neil would never ask for, and Neil suspects it has to do with how worked up Neil already is after his first orgasm, still fragile and sensitive. Still, Neil is grateful.

It isn’t long before Andrew’s sharp breaths and barely held back grunts are overtaken by Neil’s soft moans. He’s hard again, by some miracle, and with each careful thrust from Andrew, he’s more alive, legs looping higher against Andrew’s sides to offer a better angel. Andrew watches him carefully, waiting for the ‘okay’ and seems to find it in Neil’s hooded eyes staring right back at him.

It’s all the encouragement Andrew needs to add new vigor to his thrusts, lengthening his stride, and centering himself a little more to push up and yank his tank top over his head, tossing it in some unknown direction. Approval comes in Neil’s appreciative hum, which Andrew ignores in favor of taking Neil by the thighs and bending him over so he has better access to rut against Neil with.

Soft, careful breaths are replaced with strained cries and Andrew’s hand clamps over Neil’s mouth to keep him at a reasonable volume. Neil shouldn’t be as turned on by it as he is. It’s equal parts domination and restriction of breath that has Neil more aroused than ever, even if Andrew only did it because they have neighbors that he doesn’t want in their business. They both enjoy how muffled Neil’s sobbing moans sound, though, and Andrew makes that known with the guttural, animalistic groan he lets out, brows furrowing together, eyes barely managing to stay open.

Somehow the soreness at the result of being fingered for an eternity makes Neil more sensitive than ever and his assaulted prostate takes each thrust from Andrew like the end of the world. Neil chokes and sobs, fisting himself furiously, desperate for release, but just when he thinks he might be closing on an orgasm, Andrew snarls down at him, “Don’t you dare cum.”

The cry of Andrew’s name in protest is muffled, but Neil clamps down on himself obediently, and hiccups through his crying. It’s a mix of impossible pain and impossible pleasure to feel all the intensity with which Andrew fucks him through the bed. Neil doesn’t know how he’ll survive the night if this continues, but there’s no choice but to bear it, and wait for Andrew to show him mercy.

Through bleary eyes, Neil watches Andrew pound into him, and it is a sight to behold. Sweat beads on his bare chest, and dampens his brow, turning his ruffled bangs to thick tendrils until he hastily sweeps them away. It ignites warmth in the pit of Neil’s gut to see how worked up Andrew is, equal parts attraction and affection, and if he had more of his head, and if he was allowed to use his voice, he might praise the small blond, tell him how good he looks above him, how good he feels inside him.

Andrew finally releases Neil’s mouth in favor of hooking his thighs over his elbows, pulling Neil’s ass off the mattress a bit. It allows Andrew to make his thrusts even deeper and longer, and he adds new force behind them with the better angel, making Neil pull one hand up to take Andrew’s place so he can release his pleasure in the form of desperate moans and wild panting. Andrew’s forehead falls on Neil’s chest and the sweaty feel of their skin-on-skin contact isn’t appealing, but Andrew this close, this intimate, truly makes something swell in Neil’s chest.

“Fu-fu-fuck,” Neil croons into his fingers, trying his best to keep his voice low. “Feels so good... It’s killing me, A-andrew.” He flips his hand over to bite his knuckles and tries flexing the muscles deep inside him again to keep his orgasm at bay. “Can I cum, baby? Can I?”

Andrew pulled himself enough to lay a kiss in the center of his chest where his forehead had been and eyes Neil. No doubt contemplating Neil turning the pet name on him for the first time. After a moment of silence, filled only by their battered breath, he works his jaw and nods just once.

Thanks comes in the form of a high moan and Neil pulls his hand away, still flexing his insides in regular pulsing intervals with Andrew’s energetic thrusts. When he stops trying to, they keep up on their own in the form of throbbing and Neil curls in on himself to as his orgasm finally uncoils. If the first had been the snap of a spring, this was the thrumming of a rubber band, and the thick globs of Neil’s cum only dribble out onto his stomach weakly. Andrew watches with interest despite the anticlimactic finish even after Neil falls back limp and exhausted, as his cock continues to spasm feebly.

When Andrew touches him experimentally Neil whimpers in protest, grabbing Andrew’s wrist. Despite Neil’s resistance, he strokes Neil through his desperate weeping. Language leaves Neil as he fights to voice his reservation. It’s too much feeling, too much everything, and Andrew hasn’t even slowed down, fucking him with powerful bucks of his hips. Neil is convinced that Andrew plans on killing him tonight with a marathon of euphoria.

Every sensation feels amped up to the extreme and Neil is sure he should be going soft after two hard orgasms but somehow he responds to Andrew’s touch and lets him jerk him off as he fucks him.

“Come here,” Andrew growls after he’s satisfied with Neil’s aching dick and grabs Neil by the back of the neck to pull them together for a ferocious kiss. Lowly, in the closest Andrew has ever come to encouragement, he hums in Neil’s mouth, “You can keep going.”

Neil hiccups and nods obediently, letting Andrew lower him down on the pillow again before bracing the back of his knees and pushing him as far over as he can to bend him in half. Neil’s arm falls over his eyes as he clenches his teeth and bares Andrew’s wildly rolling hips. He doesn’t dare touch himself, just clamps down, knowing not to cum without Andrew’s permission.

Neil’s abused sweet spot should be numb at this point but he feels everything in absurd intensity, and he finds himself battling a third orgasm in what feels like no time at all, clenching his lower muscles in the only attempt of obedience to Andrew he can manage right now. It’s the first sign that these ministrations are affecting Andrew in anyway when his breath hitches and his hips stutter, reminding Neil that he hasn’t cum even once.

He hisses a warning at Neil but if Andrew wants him to hold himself back, this is the best he can do. Neil rides the edge of his orgasm so long his eyes cross a little. He doesn’t even realize that he’s babbling again until he stutters.

“Gonna cum, gonna cum, gonna c-c-cum, _ffffuck_. I’m dying, Andrew. Gonna explode.”

His muscle contractions shortly after his words and before he can stop it, the pull is immediate. Neil whimpers weakly, feeling his entire lower half pulse with his orgasm, his toes cramping as they try to curl in on themselves.

“Fu-u-uck, so _good_. I’m sorry, Andrew, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Andrew’s hips still, waiting for Neil to come down from his high this time. When Neil finally lifts his arm and peals his eyes open, Andrew’s expression is dark. Neil is sure for a moment he’s earned some sort of punishment but around that time he also notices he is still painfully hard.

“You didn’t cum,” Andrew announces.

“I… I did,” Neil croaks.

But he’s still hard and the jizz on his stomach is only what remains from his last orgasm. Neil has never cum dry before and honestly, he hadn’t even been sure he could. If he wasn’t already completely flush all the way down to his chest, Neil might blush.

Without even smiling, Andrew seems to approve, though. “I’m going to move again,” he warns, and somehow Neil nods, too weak to protest anymore. Andrew adjusts them a bit, so he is only kneeling on one leg now, the other foot planted at Neil’s side. In no time, he has his hands clamped on the back of Neil’s neck, fucking down into him with the added leverage that makes them both groan this time.

“Will you cum for me?” Neil urges gently, brain a dizzy tangle of refreshed desire. He touches his fingertips to Andrew’s sides, tentatively. “Cum for me, Andrew? Fill me up? I want you to.”

Andrew snarls at him but doesn’t slow, eventually letting his head fall on Neil’s chest again so he’s near upside down. “ _Fuck_ ,” is the only thing he says to reveal how strained he is, sinking his fingers in Neil’s hips and ass savagely, fucking down into him desperately. Then, choked and broken, “Shut up.”

Neil doesn’t pay it much mind, too drunk on the intensity of every feeling that overwhelms him to think about listening. He reaches up to run his fingers through Andrew’s hair, burying his nose in Andrew’s hairline. “You’re so perfect… Cum for me, b-baby… I want to feel you cum inside me. Wanna… wanna cum together.” Andrew’s hips stutter, rutting him against Neil’s sweet spot sweetly, eliciting a breathy moan from Neil. “’S perfect… Lo-love being filled b-by you. You’re so-o b-big.”

Andrew doesn’t expect that, and his hips snap forward to bury inside Neil and his face mashes hard into his chest, groaning low and pretty between his breasts. Neil feels every inch of Andrew’s cock inside him throbbing as he empties himself deep. His eyes are clenched tight, breath short and labored, and each spurt has his hips twitching further into Neil, making him gasp.

It doesn’t take long before Neil is tumbling into an orgasm after him, one that only has him dripping weakly on his stomach again, barely letting out anything, but the feeling is just as intense as the last. He sobs through it, amazed that it can still affect him this much.

It takes eons for either of them to come down. Neil is somehow grateful; he isn’t sure what he would have done had he cum dry again. Andrew recovers first, easing his waning dick out to roll over onto his back. Neil bites his lip to hold in the small cry the feeling draws out of him.

He rolls onto his side away from Andrew as soon as his weight is gone, and curls into a ball, trying to contain how he’s falling apart. Andrew’s jizz leaking out of him is even enough to wrack sobs through him, and Neil digs his nails into his shoulders to try to combat the exhausting stimulation to his lower half.

After a moment, Andrew pushes up and reaches out for Neil, laying a hand on his side.

“ _Ba-ba-baltimore!_ ” Neil cries immediately, clamping down further on himself. He’s almost surprised that he has mind enough to remember the word they’d decided on but his desperation to not be touched makes him wild.

Andrew draws back like he’d stuck his hand in an open flame, deathly quiet. He waits, and when Neil shows no sign of ceasing his shivering and sobbing, he pushes to his feet, stripping his pants before crossing the room to sitting on the floor in front of Neil’s line of vision.

He watches Neil in silence before pulling a pack of cigarettes off the bed-side table, flipping it over in his hand contemplatively. “We won’t do that again,” he announces after a moment. If he regrets it, Neil knows that’s as close to an apology as Neil will get.

But Neil doesn’t want him to regret it.

He shakes his head, still unable to pull his eyes open. “N-no,” he argues between hiccuping breaths. “I just need a minute.”

“I hate you,” Andrew says immediately.

Neil doesn’t pay it any mind. “Just give me a minute,” he bites.

Whatever expression Andrew has is lost to Neil, but he waits silently, only scooting a little closer so he can turn and lean on the side of the bed, pulling an ashtray down from the table as well and lighting up.

Neil knows he should scold Andrew for smoking inside the hotel but the sharp tang relaxes him, giving him something to focus on that isn’t his sensitive body. He breathes it in smoothly, trying to unfurl his limbs one at a time, until he’s limp and numb, if not tingling a bit.

Andrew looks over his shoulder at him, and seeing Neil’s eyes are open, he pushes up onto his knees, hand going for his hair slow enough that Neil can tell him no. When he doesn’t, Andrew brushes Neil’s bangs from his brow and kisses him there, before holding his cigarette loosely in his lips, while he rests his chin on his arm on the edge of the bed.

“You’re going to set off the smoke detector,” Neil croaks finally, letting Andrew pet his hair carefully.

“Disabled it when we got the room,” Andrew admits casually, straightening out to pull the cigarette from his lips to blow smoke in Neil’s face. He ashes in the tray before offering it to Neil, holding it for him while he takes a generous drag.

“Criminal,” Neil accuses, letting the smoke seep back out between his lips and nose, but he reaches up to rub his thumb along Andrew’s sharp cheek. Andrew seems unperturbed by the accusation, contenting himself instead with turning into Neil’s touch, nuzzling his palm and kissing his wrist.

“I liked it,” Neil whispers. “For the record. It was just… a lot. I need time to calm down afterwards.”

A scowl tugs at Andrew’s lips but he looks away before speaking, nodding sharply.

“Did it feel good for you?” Neil prompts, trying to guide Andrew by his chin to face him again.

“Don’t ask stupid questions,” Andrew hisses. But the bite of it is lessened when he leans over to kiss Neil, mashing their lips together roughly. It’s almost too much but Neil stomachs it, moaning into Andrew’s lips.

“Come to bed,” Neil pants, tugging on Andrew’s earlobe lightly as if that is enough to get him in the bed. “Hold me.”

Andrew snubs out his cigarette and obeys wordlessly, climbing over Neil carefully to embrace his back, laying kiss after kiss on his shoulders, mouthing words into his nape that Neil is beginning to suspect are song lyrics for the lilting rhythm of them. Neil is a mess, and so is the bed, but for now, he’s content to let Andrew hold him until he feels whole again, drawing his fingers along Neil’s scars tenderly.

In his half-dozing state, Neil also realizes M doesn’t have the capacity to be as tender as Andrew allows himself to be for Neil either. There’s a small bit of satisfaction to be found in that, though Neil knows if he points it out to Andrew, there will be hell to pay.

“Does it turn you on when I call you big?” Neil asks instead, trying to hold back his smile.

Andrew halts, fingertips digging into Neil’s stomach roughly. “Shut your fucking mouth, Josten,” he snaps as soon as he’s recovers.


	4. Valentine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew takes Neil to Columbia for some alone time together.
> 
>  **tags:** post-canon, spooning, intercrural sex

Neil has grown accustomed to not paying attention to Valentine’s Day. He’d never had the time before coming to Palmetto State to celebrate, and his first years were too hectic to even think about the holiday passing. Besides that, Andrew’s version of romance has never been roses or chocolates or candlelit dinners, and even with Neil’s new life and freedom, he never expects Andrew to have something planned. So Andrew pulling him out of the dorm that Saturday, driving them to Columbia without explanation, has Neil in a daze.

Neil doesn’t know what to expect, especially not the feeling of relief that washes over him when Andrew immediately takes him to the house and leads him upstairs to Andrew’s bedroom. There is no forced romance. No bullshitting and being something they aren’t. Andrew just wants to be alone with Neil, and Neil appreciates that more than he knows how to put in words. This private moment together is more them than any cheesy date.

It’s been too long since they had a moment alone together, between sharing a room with two other boys and Neil’s increased responsibilities as captain. Andrew’s temper has been fluctuating, as they’ve been interrupted time and time again. Neil couldn’t even feel bad for Nicky and Kevin when they had ditched them back at Fox Tower. They need this.

Despite being alone in the house, Andrew closes the bedroom door behind them. He crosses the room slowly, like a cat stalking his prey, but Neil is happy to offer himself up. His eyes flutter closed when Andrew grabs his neck, pulling him down to Andrew’s mouth.

Andrew’s kiss is oddly caring, more gentle than normal, his hands smoothing down Neil’s sides, starting at his jaw, moving down his biceps and then his sides, to his hips. He rubs his thumbs over Neil’s hipbones methodically before wrapping his arms around to grab Neil’s ass, making him gasp into Andrew’s kisses.

It isn’t long before Andrew works Neil into a weak mess, letting him lean on him heavily before he lowers them into the bed. Carding his fingers through Neil’s fringe, he lays the barest of kisses on his forehead, brow, temple, jaw, working a crescent of gentle pecks along the side of his face before moving to his throat. Neil digs his fingers into the sheets, melting under the attention, mewling softly. His hips turn into Andrew at their own accord, seeking his warmth, and Andrew pulls him closer still, slotting his thigh between Neil’s to add pressure as he languidly rocks against Neil.

“Just this tonight,” Andrew mumbles, against Neil’s mouth, nuzzling at Neil’s nose with his own, forcing Neil to tilt his head to accept more of Andrew’s intoxicating kisses. He’s in a better mood than normal, relaxed, content now that he has Neil to himself.

It’s almost alarming how tender Andrew is with him. His starved, vicious attacks on Neil’s mouth subsiding to attentive affections, all soft touches and delicate caresses. He seems strangely content to keep to making out and working Neil into putty under his touches. Not that Neil is complaining.

It’s rare that they have the house to themselves, especially on a Saturday night, and Neil knows they should use the most of their time together, but he takes only what Andrew offers, wanting to stay like this forever, drowsy and wrapped up in Andrew’s heat. When Andrew moves Neil’s hands to his shoulders, Neil hums in appreciation.

Neil’s jaw aches, and he’s completely breathless by the time Andrew pulls up for air. Neil grips the back of his hair like an anchor, touching their foreheads together. Andrew says nothing, just watches Neil without blinking, ghosting his hand over Neil’s hip.

After a moment, Andrew rolls over, and that maybe wouldn’t have been so alarming if he didn’t keep himself pressed to Neil before pulling him by the arm so they’re flush, back to chest. This is new. Andrew keeps a tight grip on Neil’s wrist, preventing him from moving or do anything with his hand but lay it flush with Andrew’s stomach, so his pinky rested against the hem of Andrew’s pants but his his thumb and index finger sneak beneath where Andrew’s shirt has risen up on his hips.

“No lower than this,” he says carefully. Neil can feel the tension in Andrew’s back but then, against all odds, Andrew releases Neil’s wrist, pulling his own up to his cheek. Andrew doesn’t like to be touched, but this isn’t just an open invitation. This is Andrew actively telling Neil to touch him.

Neil draws his thumb along Andrew’s naval experimentally, and he feels more than hears the breath that Andrew sucks in. “This okay?” he asks, pulling his head up in an attempt to gauge Andrew’s expression. But Andrew’s face is turned too far into the mattress to see clearly. “I’ll stop if you want me to.”

“I don’t,” is all Andrew says.

“You feel like you do,” Neil argues lightly, moving like he would sit up.

Andrew’s hand clamps down on his wrist again, keeping Neil in place. “I don’t,” he insists.

Neil watches his rigid shoulders for any sign of Andrew backing down, but Andrew doesn’t move. So Neil settles back down, forcing himself to relax against Andrew’s back, curling around him, pressing his forehead to Andrew’s nape.

“This okay?”

“Shut up,” Andrew growls, half muffled by the mattress.

“I need to know you’re okay,” Neil murmurs. His thumb draws along the underside of Andrew’s belly again, and this time, Andrew seems to deflate in response. “Yes? No?”

“Yeah,” Andrew sighs, squeezing Neil’s wrist hard enough to hurt before taking the pressure off, his touch lingering as he places his hand up by his head again.

Neil lays a soft kiss against Andrew’s clothed shoulder and draws his fingers along his abdomen, gently trying to work the tension out of him. His arm under Andrew’s neck lays limp, and as Andrew’s tension slowly dissipates, he reaches up to lace his fingers in Neil’s.

“Thank you,” Neil says without context, pulling up to kiss Andrew’s neck, trying to pull them even closer together. “Thank you.”

Andrew doesn’t respond, but his mouth moves to press against Neil’s arm. Neil's tentative ministrations against his stomach turn him pliant and mellow. The more relaxed Andrew becomes, the more courageous Neil is, sliding his fingertips along the light trail of hair peeking up from Andrew’s jeans to his naval.

Andrew’s breath slows, his body falling limp, but Neil knows he couldn’t possibly fall asleep with Neil at his back. “Doing okay?” Neil checks in, drawing his nose along the shell of Andrew’s ear.

Andrew kind of growls in response, squeezing Neil’s fingers.

“This is nice,” Neil murmurs.

Andrew gives a noncommittal grunt.

Neil settles back down, breathing deep, loving the feeling of Andrew’s strong back against his chest, the swell as they breathe and press even closer together, melding into one body. He loves the warmth under his hand as he pets Andrew’s belly, loves getting to touch Andrew like this.

When Andrew’s waist tilts and his ass rides into Neil’s hips the first time, Neil thinks it’s an accident, a half-hearted attempt by Andrew at readjusting himself. The second roll makes Neil gasp, makes him move back slightly, not wanting to get worked up and betray Andrew’s trust.

When Andrew glances over his shoulder and purposefully does it again, Neil’s eyes widen in surprise.

“Yes or no?”

“I thought you said –”

“I changed my mind,” Andrew says simply, like it should be perfectly obvious, and Neil is an idiot for not realizing. That’s new.

“What do you want to do?” Neil flattens his palm against Andrew’s stomach to ground himself. Neil is no stranger to following his lead. But this is a new direction, one where Andrew was putting the reins in Neil’s hand and trusting him with Andrew’s back. Neil couldn’t – wouldn’t – fuck this up.

Andrew thinks about it lashes fluttering low as his brows draw down in concentration. He wraps his hand around Neil’s and moves him down to cup Andrew’s groin. He’s already half-aroused, and it affects Neil immediately, but he doesn’t dare move on his own. Neil gapes, letting Andrew rut against Neil’s hand, jaw clenched and breath hitching until he works himself up with Neil’s touch. Neil reacts just from the feeling alone, not needing to touch himself to grow aroused.

When they’re both hard, Andrew reaches behind to tug at Neil’s sweatpants, instructing him wordlessly to get them out of the way. Neil obeys hastily while Andrew releases himself from the confines of his jeans, and when both their pants are at their knees, Andrew shifts back to line them up again, steadying Neil’s hip with a firm grip and riding back against him so Neil’s dick slots between his ass just right.

Neil holds them together, a hand on Andrew’s stomach just where Andrew instructed, keeping them flush, and presses his nose into Andrew’s shoulder. His precum smears between his stomach and Andrew’s back, but the feeling is too good to pull away from, especially when Andrew begins grinding against him again, letting Neil’s dick slide along the tight crevice.

“This okay?” Neil’s voice is muffled against Andrew’s cotton shirt, but Andrew seems to understand because he nods sharply, back arching slightly to add pressure.

“Shut up,” is Andrew’s eloquent response.

Neil is content to lay still while Andrew rides back onto his dick, but before long Andrew reaches behind again, and this time, his hand goes for Neil’s dick. He doesn’t jerk Neil off, though, choosing instead to push Neil down, then through his closed thighs. The tight heat has Neil humming weakly.

“Just this,” Andrew says carefully, chin dipping down to his chest, voice tight.

It’s more than Neil could ever asked for.

Neil nods against his shoulder, pushing himself through the hardened muscles of Andrew’s legs until they’re flush again and the head of Neil’s cock is brushing Andrew’s balls. It’s so warm, so constricting, absolutely perfect. Neil’s eyes want to roll back in his skull, and he shuts them tight to fight it.

“Move,” is all Andrew has to say to bring Neil out of his haze and set him to slowly drawing back, almost out of Andrew’s heat entirely before pressing back in, smearing precum as he goes. Andrew’s shoulders tense but he stubbornly forces the feeling away, relaxing each muscle one at a time before croaking, “Just like that.”

Neil doesn’t dare speak, just keeps up his painfully slow pace with Andrew’s hand on his hip to guide him, until Andrew’s thighs are sticky and thoroughly coated with Neil’s generous precum, making the glide smooth and luxurious.

Neil moans gently, drawing his fingers along Andrew’s stomach, down a short stretch of his light happy trail and back up again, causing Andrew’s breath to hitch. He pulls back to mouth along Andrew’s undercut, and Andrew seems to enjoy the attention, because his hand comes up to cup the back of Neil’s neck and keep him there.

“Good?” Neil pants into his neck.

Andrew’s response came in the form of his thick thighs shifting closer still, making Neil moan. His hips speed a little and Andrew seems to agree with it, releasing his hold on Neil’s arm beneath his neck, pulling Neil’s hand up from his stomach to the column of his throat so his back can arch and offer Neil more freedom of movement. Once he’s sure Neil won’t release his neck, he’s reaching down to fist himself.

Neil can’t help but be amazed that Andrew has total control over the situation, moving Neil as he pleases, giving commands, and yet he’s choosing to make himself vulnerable like this. Putting his back to Neil, putting his throat in Neil’s hand, letting Neil invade his thighs for the first time, even if it’s only this much.

“Can’t believe we’re doing this,” Neil mutters, scraping his teeth along the join where Andrew’s neck meets his head. “Feels so good. So hot. Andrew…”

“You’re noisy,” Andrew scolds sharply, voice strained. “Shut up.”

“Are you going to cum?” Neil groans instead, his thrusts losing their rhythm as they gain speed before he settles again. “Wanna cum together.”

Andrew hisses but doesn’t respond. Doesn’t seem to mind Neil setting a new pace either. His hand moves in time with Neil and, oh, how Neil wishes he could see it, could see Andrew touching himself. But he can feel it, feel how the movement affects his lower body, affects his grip on Neil’s neck, and that is enough.

“With me,” Neil says softly, almost begging but not quite. Sweat and precum make the snug confines of Andrew’s thighs increasingly ideal, and he dreams about never having to leave, bucking against him with enough force to make Neil’s hips slap against Andrew’s ass rhythmically.

All things considered, this still isn’t Andrew’s animalistic fucking. It’s still relatively slow, and nowhere near as forceful. But it is so much more than anything Andrew has given him before. Neil is equal parts enraptured with Andrew’s charity and enamored with the pleasure it brings him. He had no idea how he’d been surviving on handjobs til now, as engrossing as Andrew’s are, when something could wrap around him so totally and give such ample, equal pressure. If this is anything like what Andrew feels when he fucks Neil (and it must feel infinitely better), Neil isn’t sure how he survives it.

“Cumming,” Andrew says hoarsely, pulling Neil from his thoughts but so neutral that it hardly registers. Neil makes a noise in question, and Andrew responds with, “Hurry the fuck up.”

Finding his wits, Neil nods, putting all his concentration into catching up with Andrew again, using his leverage on Andrew’s neck to pull him back onto Neil’s dick as he thrusts into him, panting wildly as he fights the haze of his mind to concentrate on finishing with Andrew.

Andrew’s cutback groan promises he’s moments from climax as Neil feels that ever present tightening in the bottom of his gut reaching its breaking point. He doesn’t quite mean to but he clamps down on Andrew’s shoulder, sinking teeth into the slope at the base of his neck, and Andrew curses angrily, digging nails into scalp to pull at his hair in response. But they’re both tumbling before either can do anything about it, Andrew’s deep voice cutting off as he jets onto the sheets, and Neil whimpering as he releases his load between Andrew’s thighs, making a mess of him.

Neil pulls off Andrew’s shoulder slowly, ghosting a kiss on the wound in apology. He’s spent but doesn’t want to part from the warm embrace Andrew’s legs offer, and Andrew doesn’t immediately force them apart, still panting and spasming lightly from the aftereffects of his orgasm.

It is eventually Neil who pulls away first, falling back onto his back, one arm still trapped beneath Andrew’s neck, trying to even out his breathing. It feels lonely and cold outside of Andrew’s legs. But Andrew is pushing himself up and climbing out of the bed soon after anyway, so Neil has no time to regret the loss.

Andrew pulls off his shirt, using it to towel his legs dry and wipe up what he can off the bed, then steps out of his jeans. He dumps the clothes in a pile by the dresser before pulling out a clean shirt and a pair of boxer briefs. Looking over Neil, still with his pants around his knees, he grimaces slightly. He tosses him a shirt and a pair boxers, a silent command to change.

Neil achingly sits up, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it half-heartedly at the dirty pile Andrew had started. “So that was okay?” he asks, kicking off his sweats while Andrew sits back on the bed, leaning against the headboard.

Andrew grabs a cigarette from the pack on the bedside table and lights up, makes a thoughtful noise that sounds like neither affirmation nor denial. Neil waits patiently, redressing in silence before scooting back to be closer to Andrew again. He tentatively drapes himself across Andrew’s middle, head not quite on his chest but still close enough that he can feel Andrew’s steady heart thrumming heavily. The only sign of approval Neil gets is Andrew resting a hand on top of his head, but he still says nothing and seems content to stare at the walls.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” Neil says drowsily around a yawn. Then, after a moment, “I’ve never told anyone before.”

Andrew flicks his cigarette in the ashtray casually, then offers it down to Neil who accepts it but is content to just hold it against his lips without taking a drag and let the sour tang of smoke fill the air. He rolls a little so he’s on his back, still under Andrew’s arm, letting him drape his hand across Neil’s chest.

“I liked it,” Neil says softly around the smoke. A ‘thank you’ seems awkward, but the words convey his gratitude well enough.

He hands the cigarette back up to Andrew who drags off it deliberately, blowing smoke out with great thought. After a long minute of Andrew smoking and Neil trying not to nod off, Andrew snubs out the cigarette. “What a stupid holiday,” he grumbles, romantic as ever, before nudging Neil off of him so he can lay down properly.

Neil thinks that means Andrew has decided the night was not worth much to him, and it's a bit disappointing. But when Andrew draws Neil down to him so they lay face to face, legs tangling lightly, he wonders if he should doubt that initial interpretation.

“Next time,” Andrew says, eyes closed but grimacing. “You wear a condom. I don’t like the mess.”

 _Next time_ , he said. Neil purses his lips to hold back a smile and forces his eyes to close.


	5. A Worthwhile Distraction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neil suggests to Andrew that they join the Mile High Club to distract him from his acrophobia.
> 
>  **tags:** Canon-compliant, anal sex, Mile High Club, exhibition kink, humiliation kink,

Neil knows about Andrew’s acrophobia. He’s seen it firsthand. But it still throws him off to see Andrew tense, jaw working, see the traces of fear in his eyes. Neil still can’t quite wrap his mind around the idea of Andrew presenting fear toward anything. Their second team flight brings the reminder to the forefront of Neil’s mind, though.

Andrew has nearly wrenched the armrest off of the seat. Neil has reached over to pull the blind down twice for him. The first time he slapped Neil’s hand out of the way, quick as lightning so he could go back to gripping the armrest again. The second time, it took him a little longer to reach over and stubbornly shove it back up as they were in the middle of turbulence.

Neil rolls his eyes. He can hear the soles of Andrew’s shoes ache and squeak as his toes clench and curl as they hit a current and the plane wobbles and bumps. He might offer Andrew his hand to lace his fingers in if Kevin wasn’t on his other side, reading an Exy magazine. Not that he actually thinks Andrew would take the charity.

As it stands, he can only stare boredly at the small TV screen on the back of the seat in front of him showing the in-flight movie. Something boring and probably not nearly as interesting as Kevin’s magazine, but he’s not interested in sharing.

Given his height and the size of the seats, he doesn’t see Dan and Matt walking back from the bathroom until Matt bumps into the stewardess right at Kevin’s side, too busy walking backwards to giggle at Dan conspiratorially.

Neil is no stranger to plane rides, and he’s seen more than heard the idea of the mile high club (thankfully). So he catches on to Dan’s slightly disheveled hair trying to escape her ponytail and the mismatching of the buttons on Matt’s shirt right away. The immediate reaction is a shy blush, and Neil turns away too soon, like he’s seen the private act with his own eyes.

Andrew looks over at him in question, squinting suspiciously when he sees Neil’s light blush. The thought shouldn’t dawn. Shouldn’t even cross his mind. Neil’s blush deepens instantly, looking over at Andrew’s sharp features turned stark by the color draining from his face as they reach new altitude. If... if they could... If he and Andrew...

Tentatively, Neil rubs his clammy hands on his own jeans to keep himself from grabbing Andrew’s knee. “Do... do you want to cool off in the bathroom?” he whispers hoarsely.

Andrew’s eyes go a little wild with anger. “Fuck you,” he hisses.

Neil licks his lips, leaning a little closer to him. “Take me to the bathroom, Andrew,” he murmurs.

This is so wrong, not something Neil would do, not normally. He’s not this adventurous. Surely not this much of an exhibitionist. He peeks at Andrew through his lashes, and Andrew searches his eyes in response, a silent conversation passing between them.

Abruptly, Andrew unbuckles himself, pushing to feet. He bends slightly over the seat in front of him even though he doesn’t exactly need to and looks at Neil expectantly.

Neil doesn’t dare question the change of heart, pulling his loose team hoodie down a little more snugly over his lap before turning on Kevin. “Let us out,” he says, voice still raspy from whispering to Andrew.

“Wha--?”

“Move,” Andrew demands a little more forcefully.

Kevin looks between them, and seems to think better than going against Andrew’s commands. He scrambles to unbuckle his seat belt and get out into the aisle. Neil wastes no time pushing to his feet, letting Andrew clamp down on his wrist as they step out into the aisle and immediately set off together to the back of the plane.

The worry that the bathroom is occupied doesn’t cross Neil’s mind until they’re in front of the door, but when he pulls on the handle, it jerks open, and Andrew is quickly shoving Neil in before he has to think about it, slamming the door behind him.

It’s cramped, barely enough room for a toilet and sink, and anything but classy, closer to a port-a-john in the sky than a bathroom. But it’s private, and gives them time alone together on a four hour flight.

Andrew crowds Neil into a corner, hands for his hips immediately. “Any particular reason you brought me here?” Andrew asks huskily, hot breath falling on Neil’s neck. As if he doesn’t know. “You planning something?”

“I... I don’t know,” Neil admits honestly. He hadn’t thought this far ahead, not past getting Andrew into the bathroom. “Kiss me?” he asks helplessly.

Andrew doesn’t have to be told twice. His mouth is on Neil’s instantly, hands slipping beneath Neil’s shirt, running over Neil’s waist, fingers sinking into supple flesh to pull them together. Neil melts against him, only keeping his hands to his side by fragile willpower. Andrew works him over the sink, so Neil his half sitting on it, bent back until his shoulders press to the mirror, back straining against the arch.

When Andrew draws his tongue over Neil’s lips, demanding they part, Neil moans into it, granting Andrew entrance, fuzzy and warm with desire. His kisses are long and languid, not their usual bitey attacks, and Neil tingles, glad that he’s pressed over the sink. Otherwise, he guesses, his knees would give out beneath him.

“Can’t believe we’re doing this,” Neil pants when Andrew moves to Neil’s jaw.

“This was your idea, dumbass,” Andrew growls, laving his tongue over Neil’s throat before sinking his teeth in and sucking hard. Neil knows it’s going to leave a nasty hicky but in this moment he can’t be bothered to care. He’s too busy trying to seek relief for his erection against Andrew’s thigh.

“Still...” Neil begins but he can’t think of much to say in his defense, and his words fall into a moan. Fingers digging into the cheap, textured counter, Neil can only let himself be helplessly worked into a puddle under Andrew’s ministrations, his whole body feeling heavy and hot.

“How d’you want it, baby?” Andrew rumbles against Neil’s throat, rolling his hips into Neil’s, already pretty worked up himself. Neil bites his lip, glad that at least he’s been successful in distracting Andrew from their altitude. “Want me to suck you off?”

As much as the thought makes him moan, Neil finds himself shaking his head. “Want... from behind?” Neil peels his eyes open to gauge Andrew’s reaction.

Andrew looks up at him with dark, blown out eyes, scowling slightly with swollen, wet lips. Neil knows he’s not fond of not being able to see Neil’s face, but... Neil bites back a whine at the thought of how deep Andrew can hit him when he takes him from behind.

“Turn around,” Andrew commands after a moment of shared silence, stepping back just enough to give Neil room to slide off the counter and take position, legs spread slightly, back to Andrew. Like this, he can see Andrew watching him in the reflection of the dingy mirror over his shoulder.

Andrew tugs on Neil’s over-sized hoodie in a silent commend and Neil lifts it up enough to expose his waist and stomach, trying not to feel the rush of shame at the prospect of exposing his scars, even to only Andrew and the mirror. For his part, Andrew eases him into it, reaching around to caress Neil’s stomach and tracing his scars before he’s unbuttoning Neil’s jeans, tugging them down his thighs, then deftly yanking down his boxers after them.

Neil springs forth, dick wagging when he’s released, and he pants, fingers digging into into the thing fabric of his hoodie, chin falling to his chest, somehow self-conscious now that he’s exposed, despite the privacy the bathroom offers.

Andrew draws his nose long Neil’s neck as he reaches around to jerk Neil off and palm his bare ass. It isn’t long though before his groping turned to drawing his middle and ring finger across Neil’s entrance, rubbing hard, tight circles around the twitching flesh.

Neil moans but Andrew cuts him off harshly, in filthy Russian, “Sh, someone will hear. Or do you want to get caught?” Neil barely cuts back his whimper but shakes his head. “Does it turn you on, thinking about them hearing you get fucked in the ass?” Neil chokes, his lower half spasming despite his protests. “It does, doesn’t it? Pervert.”

“No,” Neil cries softly, in English. Then, more honestly, “M-maybe. I don’t know.”

“Here. Suck.” Andrew releases Neil’s dick to force his fingers into Neil’s bitten lips. Giving Neil no other option than obedience. Andrew’s fingers in his mouth at least does something to muffle Neil’s moans. But he chuckles darkly, more of a small scoff than a laugh, enjoying the slow torture of working up Neil with his words, going back into his Russian teasing. “Do you want the whole cabin to know you get fucked by me? Is that it? You want everyone to know who owns you?”

“An’rew,” is all Neil can give in argument, slurring around Andrew’s digits fucking into his mouth.

“So dirty for me, baby,” Andrew grits out in English, pulling his fingers out, wet with saliva. “I’m gonna. Gonna fuck you, gonna make you beg for me.”

“Hurry,” Neil croons softly, drooling, and Andrew wastes no time forcing his fingers inside Neil’s ass, making him sob softly.

“This good?” Andrew asks, fingering him open. “You gotta tell me, Neil. Or I won’t know.”

“It’s good,” Neil says hastily, moaning at the strain. “Fuck, it’s so good, Andrew. Don’t stop, don’t stop.”

Andrew adds a third finger, and Neil squeaks, just barely clamping down on his cry. He twists his fingers around so his palm is down and he can rub roughly at Neil’s prostate, making him fall over the counter. The mirror is cool on his forehead, though it fogs with Neil’s hot breath, and Neil peels his bleary eyes open to watch Andrew in the reflection.

“Want you inside me,” he pants weakly.

Andrew, for his part, looks a little dazed, but when he glances up from Neil’s ass to his eyes, his brow furrows. “You ready for me, baby?” he asks darkly, stepping a little closer.

“Mh-hm.” Neil nods weakly against the glass, lips pursed.

The loss of Andrew’s fingers makes Neil sob weakly, missing the the hot ache. He leans over, nosing alone Neil’s hairline as he undoes his buckle and pushes his pants down his thighs. The purr of his zipper makes Neil twitch, hungry to be filled, and Andrew pushes a sharp breath through his nose, a half-aborted scoff.

Neil’s arm comes up to pad his head from the hard mirror while Andrew produces a condom and rips the packaging open with his teeth. He tosses the foil in some unknown corner of the bathroom before wrapping himself up, and Neil pants in anticipation.

The first firm press, Andrew slides against Neil ineffectually, and they both cuss. Frustration makes Andrew determined though, and he forces Neil’s hips to still with a firm hand, gripping himself at the base to line up again.

This time, Andrew manages to force his way inside and tears sting in Neil’s eyes, too much of Andrew’s heavy cock inside him at once with too little prep. “W-wait,” Neil chokes, tapping at Andrew’s hand on his hip weakly. “Fuck, fuck, sorry, just give me a second.”

“Too much?” Andrew’s voice is gravelly with desire, but he stills obediently.

“N-no.” It aches, tearing at sensitive flesh, but Neil doesn’t want Andrew to stop. Anything but that. “I just... I just need a second.”

Neil’s fingers linger on Andrew’s for a moment at his hip before he lets them slip down between his legs, fisting himself in a loose grip as he tries to remember how to breathe. Eventually he starts slowly easing himself back, grateful that the condom is self-lubricated, even if it isn’t much, not nearly enough to make things comfortable.

Andrew trembles with the slow intrusion but remains perfectly still to let Neil control how much he takes. It takes longer than either of them would like for Andrew to bottom out inside, but Neil moans in relief, and Andrew bites back a grunt, clearly pleased.

“Fffuck, Andrew,” Neil whimpers, tightening his grip on himself, jerking with more force now. It hurts, but god, it’s so satisfying being filled like this, knowing he’s taken all of Andrew’s thick cock, knowing that he can. He blinks away the tears, hiding his face in the pillow of his hoodie sleeve to spare Andrew the stress of seeing his pain.

“Tell me when to move,” Andrew says, gentler now, running his hands up to Neil’s waist and running comforting circles with his thumbs there.

Neil nods, biting his lip briefly before he whispers, “Okay, ok-okay. You... you can...”

Andrew doesn’t make Neil finish, just eases Neil into tilting his hips down a bit, to spread his legs more before he takes his first languid plunge, Neil melts against the counter, moaning long and loud, equal parts to counteract the pain and relieve the pleasure building inside him.

“Sh,”Andrew hisses.

Andrew slides easily on Neil’s sweet spot immediately and it does something to distract form the tension. He bites down on his sleeve this time to muffle the moan the sensation produces.

Their eyes meet in the mirror, Andrew’s dark and determined, Neil’s watering and pleading, and Andrew gives another slow, experimental thrust. He seems satisfied with how Neil’s eyes cross slightly in reaction, and takes that as the permission that it is to continue.

His thrusts are short but steady, rhythmic, and Neil’s harsh breaths through his nose match each thrust, occasionally broken up by soft noises half-suppressed by his cotton sleeve.

“We should be quick,” Andrew says tensely. “Don’t know how long before someone will come to check. Unless you want to get caught.”

Neil nods, eyes falling closed. He pulls back just enough to say, “Fuck me, then. Andrew.”

Andrew obeys without comment, and adds force to his thrusts, holding Neil in place with heavy hands. Short, sharp grunts give away how much he’s feeling it, despite Andrew’s usual restraint.

Neil’s forehead falls against his arm again, and he releases himself just enough to pull up his hoodie and bite it, equal parts to hold it out of his way and muffle his voice and soak up his drool. He jerks himself eagerly now, precum dribbling unhindered onto the floor. His thumb draws over the sensitive slit, allowing him to slather his precum across his dick and lubricate his swift pumps.

Heat and pain bloom from Neil’s insides but beneath that, there’s a tingling pleasure fighting its way to the forefront of his mind, making him squeeze his eyes shut tight, trying to focus only on that.

Andrew hisses when Neil twitches around him, the result of him rubbing roughly into his prostate, but he catches on, and angles himself to hit that area again, abusing it with constant sensation, and Neil sobs, jaw tensing to keep from dropping his hoodie. He can’t praise Andrew like this, so Neil’s only encouragement is pushing back into Andrew, eliciting a more forceful fuck, and moaning in approval with Andrew snarls, gratifying it.

He digs his fingers in, fucks Neil over the counter without letting him move now, even coming off his heels with the strength he puts into each harsh buck of his hips. Neil’s eyes roll back, despite being clamped closed, and he almost screams, only held back by teeth sunk into cotton.

“There’s no way they can’t here you,” Andrew says, sounding pleased. “How many rows, do you think? Do you think Coach can hear you getting fucked? Kevin? Do you think a stewardess will come to stop us?”

Neil opens his mouth in protest, forgetting his make-shift gag temporarily. He’s too mad that he dropped his only silencer to remember to argue with Andrew, and sobs, humiliated and scared of being caught but, fuck, so turned on by it at the same time.

“So mean,” Neil chokes.

“Yeah,” Andrew agrees, unapologetic. “You’re gonna cum from it, though. Twitching around me. So tight. Gonna cum so hard for me, aren’t you, baby?”

Neil can only nod in response. whimpering and keening.

Andrew fucks into him roughly, bending over Neil’s back slightly in the first sign that he’s close too. “Shit,” he hisses under his breath, between clenched teeth.

Neil’s stomach cuts into the counter as he’s forced to arch under Andrew’s weight and he finds himself begging, just like Andrew said he would. He hates that he can be so easily manipulated but he’s so, so close, just wants to cum. In half-slurred Russian, he cries, “F-fuck me, Andrew? Andrew, A-andrew, I need it. Want it. Want you to make me cum. Want you to fill me up. Make a mess of me. I-I can’t anymore. I need to cum, need to. Need -- need you, Andrew. I don’t care if they hear, just let me cum, let me. Pl- fuck, fuck, Andrew.”

Andrew’s voice is like gravel in his ear. He groans, pulling out to force Neil to flip over, forcing him up onto the counter, hooking Neil’s knees up over his elbows, and sinking into him again. With his jeans in the way, Neil can’t spread his legs the way he wants, but Andrew forces them up to his chest and it’s enough. He fucks deep and with no rhythm, right into Neil’s prostate, making him throw his arms over his face to hold in the noises he’s making, pressure building inside him.

“Cum for me, Neil,” Andrew grunts, hips stuttering as he holds himself back from finishing.

It’s all the permission Neil needs to cum hard across his chest, hitting even his neck and chin. Each spurt has his hips twitching down into Andrew’s dick, his knees squeezing Andrew’s shoulders to keep them together. He sobs, vaguely aware that he’s just stained his hoodie, but forgetting about it just as fast as Andrew’s hips snap, shuttering violently as he finishes inside Neil, breath cutting off before he can let himself moan.

“Fuck,” Neil says weakly, spent and shivering when Andrew pulls out.

Andrew doesn’t smile but he’s flush down to his neck and his eyes are wild, no signs of his former fear on his face. He forces Neil over further, straining his back, and kisses him greedily, even going so far as to lap at his chin to catch the cum slipping along his jaw. The taste is bitter but Neil couldn’t possibly refuse one of Andrew’s kisses. He moans into it, satisfied.

“I can’t believe no one came to the door,” Neil pants as Andrew steps back and lowers Neil’s legs to the ground.

“Would you rather they did?” Andrew snorts, easing himself out of the condom. He stands there casually with his pants at his knees, tying it off and wrapping it in paper towels. There’s a small trash receptacle by the soap dispenser that he drops it in before he helps Neil to his feet and out of his hoodie.

“Fuck, what am I supposed to do now?” Neil whines, holding up the atrocious orange monstrosity to access the damage. “I can’t wear this.”

“Quit bitching,” Andrew snaps with a rolls of his eyes, pulling his own hoodie over his head and handing it off to Neil.

Neil takes it wordlessly, pulling it over his head, and Andrew balls up the ruined one. Andrew’s isn’t as large as Neil’s but it’s still big enough that Neil can pull the sleeves over his knuckles and hide his waist with it after pulling his jeans back up.

After they’ve put themselves back together, Neil wonders briefly if they should stagger their exit to make it not as obvious that they’d been in the bathroom together, but decides against it when he remembers they had gone in together.

Andrew kind of sneers at him, ugly and evil, but crowds him against the door with hungry kisses. “You gonna blush like a virgin out there?” he teases.

“I _was_ a virgin, before you,” Neil says honestly, oddly unashamed by it.

Andrew looks disturbingly satisfied by that. “Good,” he says simply, reaching around Neil to open the door and shoving him out into the aisle.

Neil knows his face is hot when they walk down the aisle, but he tries not to meet anyone’s eye. Andrew on the other hand casually surveys the other passengers, almost eager to see who had heard Neil’s sex-crazed pleading.

“You’re such an ass,” Neil mutters under his breath as they pass the strangers and reach the section where their teammates are.

“You’re lucky,” Andrew says instead of answering. “Guess that door was thicker than we thought.”

Neil doesn’t know if Andrew is lying to him or if he’s allowed to be relieved, but all pretenses of innocence are lost when he stops in front of Kevin and sees the mortified look he gives him. Even if Kevin didn’t hear anything, it’s obvious what they’d been up to by Neil wearing Andrew’s “Foxes 03″ hoodie and the nasty hicky on his neck. _Shit._

Andrew seems unfazed. “Get up,” he orders, bored already by whatever scolding Kevin is about to give.

“I can’t believe you two,” Kevin hisses, pushing to his feet.

Neil can’t believe himself, but he smiles. Smirks, more like. “Jealous?” he postures, bluffing for all he's worth before sliding in after Andrew.

For what it’s worth, humiliation aside, Andrew looks much more relaxed for the rest of the flight.


	6. Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew learns that Neil has a bit of a hand fetish. Neil learns that Andrew likes it much more than he should.
> 
>  **tag:** post-canon, hand fetish, masturbation,

Neil holds Andrew’s hand in both of his on his thighs, running his thumb over Andrew’s knuckles, as if he could wipe away the scabs and bruises. They sit with their feet dangling off the ledge of roof, cigarettes hanging from slack lips. Twin plumes of smoke snake above their heads, twisting around each other before vaporizing with the wind. 

Neil drags off his cigarette, ashing on the concrete ledge to his right side, while considering Andrew’s hands, still beaten and painted purple and blue from his spar with Renee. He eases the hand up, giving Andrew plenty of time to come to attention and protest. He doesn’t, but Neil feels his eyes, and his thumb draws on Neil’s wrist just before he presses his lips to the back of his hand. 

“This okay?” Neil murmurs, just to clarify, peaking at Andrew from the corner of his eye.

Andrew, for his part, looks mildly interested in the events unfolding. He’s equal parts angel and gargoyle, perched on the ledge with his left leg drawn to his chest, elbow resting on knee, while he holds his own cigarette between blunt fingers, chewing on his thumbnail thoughtfully. After a moment of staring at Neil, he gives the slightest of nods.

Neil pulls a leg over the ledge so he straddles it, before waiting. It takes Andrew a moment to mirror his position, but he does, snubbing out his cigarette as he goes. Neil fights the smile off his face, buries it down with another brush of lips against Andrew’s hand, putting out his cig as an afterthought. 

These hands, Andrew’s hands, had terrified Neil once. Hands that could and would hurt him, if given the chance. That would break and take and choke. Andrew’s hands, that put murder in action, that wielded blades and drew blood, that left bruises and fought and fought and fought. 

They were also hands that Neil had grown to rely on, that fought for him, that shielded him. Hands that held him up. Hard callouses that rubbed his skin raw, strong fingers that wrapped around his neck, grounded him. That pulled him apart and pushed him down, that made him feel safe. 

Neil turns Andrew’s hand over, looks at his palms, the lines crisscrossing over pale flesh. There were people who thought you could tell the future of someone in their palms, but all Neil sees is the points of flesh most creased from Andrew forming fists, a telling of how his hand moves and shapes when he was doing what he does best.

Neil lays another kiss in the center of his palm, breathing in the stale spice of smoke left over on Andrew’s flesh. Draws his nose along the lines of his hands, caresses Andrew’s fingers with his thumb to ease it flat and open. Kisses a trail down from the join of his fingers to his palm all the way to the biggest bone of his thumb.

When he reaches the hem of Andrew’s armband, Neil pauses and Andrew stiffens. They both stop, with Neil looking up to Andrew in question. It’s something like an eternity before one of them breaks the silence. 

“I need a yes or a no,” Neil prompts gently.

“Do it,” Andrew says, like he’d just been waiting for Neil to ask. This means something, Neil is sure, and his heart leaps, but he knows putting words to it would only cause Andrew to shut down and this offering be ripped away from him.

Tentatively, Neil peaks his fingers beneath the fabric, pushing it up Andrew’s arm, shoving the weighty knives along with them. He runs his thumb over the scars first, feeling their grooves and puckered flesh first, before bending down to lay his lips across them, squeezing his eyes tight as if in prayer. He turns Andrew’s hand so it cups his cheek, kissing along every bit of exposed, damaged flesh, eyes wet with appreciation.

Andrew’s arm slowly loses its tension as he strokes beneath Neil’s eye with his thumb, and a small puff of air escapes his lips. Neil’s cheeks warm, and he leans back enough to pull out of Andrew’s touch, turning his wrist further so his palm faces toward Neil, fingers up. 

The next kiss comes slower, and they both remain perfectly still, on bated breath as Neil covers Andrew’s hand in wet kisses, letting his tongue sneak out to taste the salty tang of his palm. He’s barely aware of Andrew’s hand splaying out on the concrete between their thighs as he draws his nose between Andrew’s index and middle finger, smearing spit-slicked lips along the digits. 

These hands which could pleasure Neil, could make him forget everything but Andrew heavy and heated against him. When had they become something so different from the weapons that Neil had originally thought them to be? Neil lets out a weak noise, tongue falling out to lave Andrew’s fingers. He pulls his eyes open just enough to peak at Andrew through his lashes as he wraps his lips around Andrew’s first two fingers and sinks down on them. 

Andrew’s eyes are wide and blown out, brows a deep furrow in something akin to rage, but the way his lips part and the shallow breaths he lets out tells Neil not to stop. Especially when he glances down to the tenting in Andrew’s too-tight, black jeans.

Neil’s heart picks up again, and he pulls off Andrew’s fingers with a wet pop, lapping up his own spit before he says breathlessly, “You’re hard.”

“Shut up,” Andrew growls, but he doesn’t take back his hand, and he makes no move to adjust himself. 

Neil hums contently, though, parting his lips and letting Andrew’s fingers rest on his waiting tongue. His back arches slightly, muscles contracting with building pleasure, begging to push things further. This hadn’t been his intention with the first few chaste kisses, but now that it had come to this, desire sinks into his groin and Neil tilts his hips forward, grinding against the concrete between his thighs. 

Andrew cusses under his breath, hooking his fingers so they pull Neil closer by his jaw. It aches but Neil is pleased to get a response that isn’t a ‘no.’ “Didn’t know you had a hand kink,” Andrew notes hoarsely.

Neil smiles, letting Andrew’s fingers leave his mouth, flicking his tongue between them wantonly before he says around a sneer, “If I have a hand kink, you have a kink for having your hands worshiped.” He looks pointedly down at Andrew’s erection. 

They’re close enough to kiss, but Neil puts his focus into Andrew’s hand, bending his fingers down so he can kiss his knuckles again while he pulls his armband back up to cover his wrists. “I want to watch you touch yourself,” he murmurs into the scabbed flesh. “With these hands.” 

Andrew’s hand draws back, curling into a fist as it goes, and Neil lets it go without protest. Neil shoves his hands into the pocket of his hoodie, a silent promise that he wont touch Andrew if that privilege has been revoked. Just watches him, licks the spit off his lip, waits.

Andrew flexes his fingers out before squeezing his fist again, like Neil’s touch burned him. “You want to watch me jack off.” It’s not a question and it’s not seductive. Just a statement of fact, only the barest hint of contempt, like Andrew is mulling the thought over on his tongue.

Neil licks his lips again, leaning forward a bit to try and catch Andrew’s eye. “Do you think it’s satisfying being the only one to get off every time?” Neil prompts. “You never… I’ve only seen you… I want you, too, you know. I want you to feel good, too.”

Andrew squints. He’s good at choosing his words carefully. They both are. But Neil knows what he wants. And he’s willing to go out on a ledge for it, even if Andrew isn’t. Andrew’s eyes break from Neil’s momentarily, only long enough to glance down at the parking lot four stories beneath them, before looking back at Neil’s hidden hands.

“Not today,” Andrew finally says, sliding away to stand up.

“Not today doesn’t mean not ever,” Neil prompts, fighting the smile off his lips to look over at Andrew with earnest. 

“I could still push you off the ledge,” Andrew reminds him, squinting. 

“I’d still take you with me,” Neil fires back immediately. “I’m not afraid of you.”

Andrew looks at him with cool boredom. “You would be if you knew what was good for you.”

Neil knows he’s grinning when he says, “We both know I never have.”

Andrew leaves him with that, not quite a victory, not quite a defeat, in more ways than one. Neil is willing to be patient though, to wait for his prize. Doing things at Andrew’s pace isn’t something Neil has ever been opposed to, and the idea of being given Andrew’s pleasure is preferable to taking it.

* * *

Andrew watches Neil play with his hands. Neil knows this. He tries not to think about it too much but the thought of Andrew’s eyes on him makes him act strange. Makes him do things he normally wouldn’t have the courage or the inclination to do. It’s thrilling and charged with something running just under the current, something they both feel deep in their guts. Andrew watches Neil, Neil thrives off his eyes, Neil does pretty and dirty things, Andrew’s eyes darken with desire, and the cycle continues. 

Neil traces the lines of Andrew’s palm during a team meeting. Coach addresses the freshman so Neil feels no need to pay attention, even with Kevin on his other side looking dark and threatening and stiff. There might be a twinge of guilt buried deep, but Neil is determined to capitalize on the fact that no one’s eyes are on them.

The couch is in the back of the room, his teammates all have their attention directed at Coach. Freshmen sit cross-legged on the floor at their feet, back to the Monsters, but what else is new? Andrew’s legs splay out casually, confident. Kevin crosses one ankle over the other knee. There really isn’t any space for Neil so he takes up as much of Andrew’s as he’s allowed, one leg in front of him, the other beneath Andrew’s so their legs cross at the ankles. 

He pulls Andrew’s hand up to kiss his palm. If Coach or Kevin notice, they choose that moment to ignore him. Andrew’s eyes on the other hand dart up to Neil’s a mix of warning and something darker, something more carnal. Neil soothes the place of his kiss by rubbing his thumb roughly through it, as if he could wipe away the lingering feeling of it. 

Andrew’s legs shift. He sits up a little straighter, the perfect height for Neil to rest his head on his shoulder, but he doesn’t. Instead, he slips two fingers just inside Andrew’s armbands, clumsy fingers bumping something hard, probably a knife, and feels his pulse, heavy and a little faster than normal. He ignores the uneven, marred skin, focuses solely on what is happening underneath it. Andrew lets it happen with careful, guarded eyes, a well-trained poker face. The blunt ends of his finger dig into Neil’s wrist in kind, but more as a warning than to check his heart rate. 

When Neil is satisfied, knowing he had drawn something worth making Andrew’s heart race out of him, he retreats his fingers, flicks his eyes up just barely to offer the ghost of a smile to Andrew, and flips his hand over, looking over his scuffed knuckles now. 

He knows Andrew and Renee fight sometimes, on Sundays. Knows they stand on equal footing in that department, trade wins and losses regularly. It had freaked Neil out at first, alarmed him even, to think about his teammates drawing fists and knives against each other. 

But in a way, it’s something Neil knows Andrew needs. 

Knows he needs to release all that pent up rage, needs to feel like he could win something, could fight something and come out on top. Could be prepared if he’s ever put in a position where his safety or the safety of those he cares about is compromised. Neil finds himself yet again remembering all the trauma these hands can inflict. And have inflicted. 

He hadn’t realized that Andrew’s hand is mere inches from his lips until he lets out a shakey breath across his knuckles, and Andrew’s fingers twitch in his grasp. Beside him, Andrew crosses his legs, leans away to rest an elbow on the arm of the sofa and stare pointedly at the wall with the heel of his palm over his mouth. 

Neil’s brows quirk, confused, until he sees the outline of Andrew’s erection in his jeans. Neil goes very still after that, holding Andrew’s hand in both of his on his thigh, squeezing it but doing nothing else, and battles himself to keep the smile off his lips the rest of the meeting.

* * *

_“Nothing you don’t want.”_

_“Nothing is exactly what I want.”_

_“Nothing wants you, too.”_

_“You’re not as clever as you think you are.”_

_“You’re not as cold as you pretend to be.”  
“I’m getting really tired of your smart mouth.”  
“No, you’re not.”  
“I should cut that smile off your face.”_

_“You wouldn’t; you like my face too much.”_

_“Then I’ll sew your mouth shut. You’re prettier when you’re not talking.”_

_“Stop dodging. Yes or no?”_

_“…Not today.”_

_“Okay.”_

* * *

The more Neil knows he wants Andrew’s hands, the more he cant stop ogling them. The more he looks at them, the more he needs to touch, to hold, to kiss. Andrew allows this. Seems to take a dark pleasure in putting his hands to other tasks, to enjoying how Neil falls apart beneath his touch. Neil knows this, knows Andrew is as conscious of his new obsession as he is. Knows that somehow, it’s mutual.

Neil draws Andrew’s fingers between his wet lips and Andrew’s eyes go wide to drink it all in. Neil holds Andrew’s hand to his cheek while Andrew fucks him and his hips spasm in response to the pure adoration in Neil’s touch. Neil doesn’t have the courage to ask what about him worshiping his hands Andrew love so much because he himself doesn’t know what draws up the desire in the first place. 

What it is about Andrew’s hands that he finds so attractive. What they do, what they’ve done, brings a twisted sort of rapture about in Neil. But looking at them, he isn’t sure what it is that he finds so beautiful. 

They’re blocky. Square palm, blunt fingers. Perpetually bruised and calloused. Nails bitten short. A bit on the large side for Andrew’s size. The perfect size though to wrap around Neil’s slender neck. To pull him down to Andrew’s level and kiss him or to wrap around his throat and squeeze the oxygen out of his system. 

They look good curled into a fist, boney, knuckles going white when Andrew curls his hand tight to fight back whatever beast is rearing its ugly head inside him. They look good spread out over Neil’s torso or sinking demanding fingers into his thighs. They look especially good lazily wrapped around a cigarette, or twirling a knife expertly around his fingers. 

(Better than Neil’s knobby fingers at least when he tried to teach Neil these tricks, and Neil fumbled through them.)

More and more, Neil needs to know – to see with his own eyes – how they would look wrapped around Andrew’s aching cock. To see exactly how he would do it. How he would fall apart in front of Neil. How he would look, so pretty, thighs spread, pulling himself to release. Neil could paint the picture in his head but it only made the desire – the need – stronger. 

Andrew corrals him into his dark bedroom in Columbia, and the force of his hands directing Neil’s hips – muscling him through the door – makes Neil weak to his will. He lets himself be kissed, groped, as Andrew kicks the door closed behind him just as Aaron is walking by on the way to his own room. 

Neither of them are drunk but they each have a few drinks in their system between them. Andrew had been going slower tonight, nursing a beer most of the night and making faces at it as he clearly didn’t enjoy it as much as his harder liquors. Still, Andrew is more demanding than normal.

When he reaches around Neil and palms his groin, Neil’s kneels quiver, head hanging as he lets Andrew hold him up. He sucks a painful hickey on the back of Neil’s neck to go along with the aged, fading ones beneath his ear. The pretty noises Neil makes only seem to egg him on.

When he finally turns Neil, crowding him toward the bed backwards, nipping at the crook of his neck, sinking demanding fingers into Neil’s ass, he comes to a little, struggling to peal his eyes open and only succeeding in looking at Andrew between his lashes. 

Andrew beats him to his request, though. “I want to do that thing that we talked about tonight,” Andrew growls, pulling back to glare up at Neil. “Is that okay?”

Having the words ripped out of his mouth and thrown back at him, Neil is struck a little breathless. It takes a moment, licking his lips and two attempts at swallowing his spit before he’s successful, before he gives something that might vaguely be considered a nod. “Y-yeah, yeah, that’s okay.”

Andrew pulls back, releases Neil and stands, waiting. Neil cant imagine a version of Andrew that isn’t in total control, doesn’t have everything planned out and prepared, but he shifts from foot to foot, one arm coming protectively over his chest to hold the opposite bicep, and looks at the bed contemplative, scowls at it. 

Neil gives him a moment to decide what he wants to do, but when Andrew shows no signs of moving, Neil reaches out, a question in his eyes until Andrew looks up to meet them. Andrew doesn’t stop him from easing his arm out of the way, from switching their positions so Andrew’s back is to bed, from easing him onto it, scooting him back until his shoulders hit the wall and Neil sits between his legs.

“This okay?”

Andrew nods a little, back to not meeting Neil’s eyes. 

Neil eases Andrew’s shirt up his hips, to expose his belt and a sliver of his stomach with his boxers peaking between the two. Makes himself comfortable there, with his legs drawn up on either side of Andrew, knees forming a barrier between them and the rest of the room, Andrew’s straddling his waist, putting his groin on display between them. 

“Do it for me? Andrew?”

Dilated hazel eyes spark, flicking up to meet the frosty blue of Neil’s, but he doesn’t take his eyes off Andrew’s hands slowly reaching between them to unclasp his belt and the way his hips lift so he can pull it off and toss it away. His fingers are slow to pull the button of his jeans open and Neil cant stop himself from touching trembling fingers to Andrew’s knuckles, mesmerized by how gracefully he completes the well-practiced movement. 

Andrew shimmies his jeans down a little, but seems to stall there a moment before Neil flicks his eyes up, brow furrowing in query. Only then does he pull his eyes from Neil’s face, forcing air between his teeth as he pushes his boxers down to expose his dick. 

Neil sucks in an unsure breath, hands curling into fists around the waistband of Andrew’s jeans, hypnotized by this quiet, private part of Andrew that he gives over. It isn’t that Neil hasn’t ever seen it before, even like this, resting on his hip, half hard and fully hooded, pale and pink where the tip peaks out from the foreskin. It’s just that he’s never had such a clear presentation of Andrew’s arousal before, of Andrew naked and exposed for Neil. The word ‘pretty’ comes to mind but Neil knows Andrew wouldn’t appreciate the compliment. The only thing that pulls his attention away is one of Andrew’s hands disappearing from Neil’s vision and the uncanny, compulsive desire his eyes have to follow it.

Andrew wipes the back of his hand under his nose, looking decidedly at the pillows at the head of the bed. Neil doesn’t dare move, doesn’t reach for him. Waits for it to pass with a level of patience he hadn’t known he possessed. 

“Do you want to stop?”

Neil makes like he would lean back, retreat if Andrew wont, but like the crack of a whip, Andrew reaches out to snag Neil somewhere between his collar and the hem along the shoulder of his shirt, holding him in place while he puts himself back together again. Without really meaning to, Neil turns his head to lay a kiss on the back of Andrew’s hand. 

Andrew tightens his grip, breath hissing between his teeth but he forces his shoulders to relax, his jaw to unclench so he can push a soft breath between his lips before licking them. At a pace that is painfully tantalizing, he takes himself in his hand. Neil’s fingers flex, before his right hand moves to hold Andrew’s hip, thumb working soothing circles into his hipbone. 

Neil’s breath shudders when Andrew gives himself an experimental tug, pulling his foreskin back to expose the pink head and then some. A few more cautious strokes and he’s coming alive in his hand, growing in girth and length, and Andrew’s eyes squeeze shut, breath stalling. Slowly he loses his grip on Neil’s shirt, hand falling down to his thigh and fingers digging into black denim.

“You’re doing so good,” Neil encourages, leaning over to kiss Andrew’s brow.

Before he makes contact though, Andrew’s hand darts up again, clamping over Neil’s mouth. Neither of them expect it to affect Neil like it does. His eyes widen momentarily, and Andrew glares at him, but when Neil inhales sharply, he takes in the heady scents lingering on Andrew’s hand. Stale beer, a hint of soap, and the salty ever-present stench of dried sweat and whatever oils always linger on hands. It’s hot, damp, forceful against Neil’s lips. He takes in a second deep breath, eyes falling closed and leans into Andrew’s touch.

“It’s just a fucking hand,” Andrew says thickly around swallowing his own spit, catching on quickly.

Neil shakes his head. _It’s your hand._ He doesn’t need to say it. They both know. They’ve exchanged the phrases enough times that it’s implied at this point. 

Neil parts his lips, breathes in as much of Andrew’s scent as he can, eyes bleary as he peaks down to see that Andrew had stopped jerking himself in favor of watching Neil fall apart from just his touch. 

Tentatively, he reaches for Andrew’s hand wrapped around his cock. Fully erect like this, his thumb only barely comes over his index finger at the thickest part of his erection. Neil moves at a snail’s pace to reach out and wrap his hand around Andrew’s, giving Andrew plenty of time to slap his hand away, but he doesn’t, looking down his nose at the movement and letting it happen. Neil hums his approval. 

Gently, loosely, Neil directs Andrew’s hand, pulling him up, then guiding him back down. He cant voice his encouragements with his mouth covered but his dizzy stare makes it obvious how pleased he is, and Andrew watches his face the entire time. More than watching Andrew’s self-pleasure, directing his handsome hand offers more satisfaction than Neil can bear. 

Andrew’s breath hitches when Neil forces him to add pressure with his thumb to the base of the head, and he twitches in their twin grasp, precum beading at the tip until Andrew himself reaches up to smear it beneath his fingers, offering a hint of lubrication. His hips shudder, working opposite the pull to add force to his movements, and he purses his lip to hold back the noise that bubbles up against his will. 

Neil can barely keep his eyes open but he doesn’t dare look away. There’s a pain in his groin, trapped in too-tight jeans picked out by Nicky, but he ignores it. This isn’t about him, not tonight. He ignores the strain, the ache, forces his focus on Andrew, on eating up every small twitch of his hips and stutter of his fingers. 

Andrew’s head falls back at some point, resting against the wall, and he looks down his nose at Neil, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows a moan. “Does –” He swallows again, voice hoarse and cracking despite himself. “– Does this really get you off?” 

Neil glances up from Andrew’s working hand, where he had started to twist his wrist and his abdomen flexed at the added attention. Slowly, Andrew’s hand slide down out of the way out of his mouth, but still gripped Neil’s jaw. “It’s you,” Neil said gently. “Everything about you gets me off.”

Andrew huffs, rolling his eyes until he looks somewhere beside them again. Neil releases his hip to tilt his chin back to face him again. lets his hand slide down to cup his neck from behind and Andrew lets it all happen, too close to falling apart to hold up his walls. His eyes flutter closed, fingers falling away from Neil’s jaw when Neil leans in and pulls him off the wall to meet him in the middle for a drunken kiss.

“You looks so good like this,” Neil says into his hot breath. “I like seeing you feel good.”

Andrew growls, but it’s cut off when he throbs in their hands, and his mouth goes slack, brows furrowing. His hand looks so good beneath Neil’s, wrapped around his heavy cock, pumping fluidly, expertly pealing back the foreskin and slathering himself with his own precum like he’s got this down to a science. The symphony of his hitching breath and barely swallowed moans makes something deep in the pit of Neil’s gut clench and he finds a soft noise escaping his own lips.

“So pretty, Andrew,” Neil says weakly, planting a hand up by Andrew’s shoulder on the wall to keep from him from falling into Andrew’s chest, to keep him steady so he can continue to watch Andrew work. To watch him add a second hand to add constant pressure and attention to the head while he fucks his hands furiously, hips bucking with vigor now. 

“F-fuck,” is the only response he gets from Andrew, more mouthing the word with a heavy huff than really saying it. His voice rumbles quietly, not quite a growl, not quite a groan, but something in between. Neil knows, from how his brows draw low and angry that he’s close. He looks like he might be in pain, but it’s not like Neil expected him to smile through it. 

“Cum for me, Andrew,” Neil whispers in encouragement. He doesn’t say the rest of what he wants to. That his hands looks so absolutely amazing fisting himself to release, that Neil wants to see how pretty they’ll look dripping with his fluids, wants to lick his cum off his fingers, wants to suck it off him and fuck his tongue through the spaces between his fingers as he laps up the mess. He cuts himself off with a moan disguised as a hum, head falling on Andrew’s shoulder, just enough that he can still see him work. 

He guesses, in a way, Andrew knows that’s what he wants anyway.

Andrew doesn’t make a noise when he comes. He only goes very still, jaw clenching, shoulders shuddering weakly as his hips spasm and his hands freeze. Neil can see him throbbing as he releases into a closed fist, can tell he’s holding his breath through the orgasm by how his chest stills. His knees dig into Neil’s side and his heels jab into the small of his back but all of that is second to the perfect view in front of him. Something about it is so innocently beautiful that Neil freezes with him, watching the whole thing through wide eyes until a glob of cum drips down, sliding over Neil’s thumb still wrapped around Andrew’s hand and he pulls it up to suck it off with his lips. It’s bitter, and the taste lingers unpleasantly, but Neil swallows it without much thought. 

When his abs stop trembling and his hips still, Andrew finally lets out a loud breath before rasping another in quickly, head falling back against the wall with a dull thud. It takes Neil longer to pull up to check on Andrew. There’s a light dusting of sweat on his forehead and even his upper lip and he uses the back of the less messy of his hands to wipe the sweat away, eyes closed and breath unsure.

Neil cant hold back his smile. Andrew just looks so damn _good_ like this, wrecked and debauched. How could he not? “What did you think about?” he asks carefully.

Andrew peels his eyes open, looking at the ceiling for a moment before he scowls down at Neil. “What do you think?” He doesn’t give Neil time to answer though before he mutters, “Thought about that thing you did with your tongue while you were sucking on my fingers, you fucking perv.”

“I think that makes you the perv,” Neil laughs softly, leaning in with a request in his eyes until Andrew’s eyes flutter and he tilts in to let Neil kiss his brow, looking down at his sloppy hands with a conflicted expression that Neil knows not to question yet. 

“It wasn’t so bad though, was it?” Neil asks, just above a breath.

Andrew glances at him for a moment, expression untrained and open before he goes cold and shut off, goes back to Andrew. He wipes his hands on Neil’s shirt in revenge before shoving him out of the way so he can stand and change for bed. 

“You got what you wanted. Are you happy now?” Andrew looks at Neil pointedly, daring him to take off his ruined shirt with Andrew’s eyes on him, unfaltering.

“You know I am,” Neil counters, stalling only for a moment before he pulls the shirt over his head, exposes his scars. Andrew doesn’t look away from Neil’s face though. not until he tosses the clean shirt he had just been about to change into at Neil and turns to grab another. 

So quiet, quiet enough that Neil isn’t sure he heard it at first, Andrew mutters, “Fucking hand fetish.”

Neil’s lips twitch, but he trains his expression before Andrew turns around.


End file.
